Spartan 16 Chapter 2

August 28th, 2014 mjaco 1 comment

The upcoming fiction novel of SEAL’s in action. If you missed or need to review Chapter 1 go here: http://www.michaeljaco.com/2014/08/spartan-16-chapter-one/

16

CHAPTER 2

Kerosene lanterns spaced evenly along the walls of the cavern flickered, jumped and twisted like grotesque, tortured figures. The eerie light caused a whiteout effect in Jake’s NVG’s whenever he scanned for movement. It was deathly quiet. It was like they were all in a horror movie searching for the undead in the subterranean chamber of a castle.

The SEAL team six and CAG soldiers began to fan out at the bottom of the stairs. Jake saw the tables and combat equipment were strewn in chaos about the floor as if the enemy had made a mad dash to leave in one helluva hurry. But where could they go? There was only one exit back towards the surface where they had come from. The odor of burnt motor oil assailed his nostrils. As an assault team explosive breacher, Jake had used military grade dynamite to open up blockages in tunnels and he instantly recognized the smell. The sight of pulverized rocks fanning out from one of the chambers quickly confirmed his suspicions.

“Break into groups and search the passageways,” he ordered. “Looks like the bastards made their escape!”

The men quickly formed into assault groups, lined up behind each other on six tunnels as their troop leaders shouted, “Go! Go! Go!”

“Form on me, Troop Two,” Jake shouted as he ran to the probable escape tunnel. The toes of his boots dug deep in the fine, gray soil, dust exploding around him.  He sprinted into the tunnel with his muzzle down, ready for action. Sweat trickled down his temples.  His breath was short and sharp as he took up position in the center.  Sliding to a halt, his voice tight, he pointed to an open doorway, while keeping his muzzle and focus down the tunnel passageway.

“Two right.”

Two of his men exploded into the room to clear it. His breath was labored from excitement and he willed himself to calm down. Dust clung to his nostrils and face, itching.  Sweat stung his eyes.  He blinked rapidly and told himself to ratchet down. Breathe deeply from the diaphragm as you learned in martial arts.

“Damn,” he muttered angrily as his team moved methodically down the tunnel.  Where the hell were the tangos?  Checking each room to make sure they didn’t leave themselves exposed to a rear ambush, his team found no one.

“They’ve hightailed it,” Jordan muttered, coming to a halt near Jake.

“Those bastards have some how escaped,” Jake agreed, a grate of frustration mirrored in his voice.  He glanced over at Jordan. “Take point, Rebel.” He pulled his muzzle up and let Jordan take over.

“Roger,” he said, focused discipline in his voice.

“Red Team leader, Red Two, we are investigating a possible breakout in the lower level,” Jake informed the commanding officer of his squadron.

“Roger Red Two, notify me when you have confirmation and I’ll send the Reaper Drones, to begin searching in that vicinity outside the cave system.”

Jordan and Jake began to stagger, slip and almost fall at times over the mounting, slippery rock debris as they moved further down the empty tunnel. Jake began to notice that light was bouncing off the curve of the right hand turn on the wall ahead of them. When they rounded the corner, the Troop all stood transfixed, eyes widening in disbelief.

Jordan whistled and whispered with awe in his southern drawl, “They didn’t spare the explosives on this exit hole, did they?”

Twisting his head around, Jake saw the blast had taken out a massive portion of the mountain, the opening as tall as a three-story building. As they rotated their NVG’s up on their helmet rails, locking them on top of their helmets, a striking view of a lush, green valley and steep, rocky mountain range across from them, revealed itself.

One of their teammates, Rudy came up and stood next to Jake.  “At least they won’t be using that demo on American troops and Afghan civilians,” he growled, contempt in his tone.

Jake nodded.  “Red Leader, the Taliban has blasted an escape hole on the southeastern face of the mountain.  We have no visual on any troop movement at this time, over.”

“Roger Red Two, we will relocate the entire team to your position and initiate search and destroy mission.”

“Good!” Jake felt triumph explode through his chest as he turned to his men and said, “We’re going to continue to track down those assholes until we wipe them out.  Let’s get briefed,” he ordered his men, turning around.

Ed Summers huddled his men together for the brief.  “The Reaper’s controllers observed several of the Taliban fleeing into the closest village down from the breakout point.”

The sun’s rays warmed Jake as he stood, listening to the new plan.  The satisfaction flowed through Jake as the hunt was finally on again.  They broke up, heading for the CH-47 helicopters that were coming in to pick them up.

Once on board the Chinook, Jake felt like an entrapped thoroughbred at the gate, seconds before the bell rang, allowing the gates to fly open so he could gallop free.  Edgy restlessness and tension fired the muscles from his crouched position on the canvas seat.  He was squeezed in with every team member that could find a place to be in on this hunt. His boot tapped on the deck of the shaking, shuddering helo as it flew them toward the coming confrontation. His destiny with the enemy stalked him, unseen and unknown and he tasted sweet revenge in his mouth.

“The Ride of the Valkyries” is playing in my head Jake shouted into Jordan’s ear as they headed rapidly towards the village.

“I Love the smell of Napalm in the Morning” Jordan said, grinning in reference to the song and the movie quote from “Apocalypse Now”.

He listened as one of the Reaper’s operators updated them through their comms as they flew nose down and tail up increasing to combat insertion speed.

“The villagers are either fleeing or are being driven out by the Taliban,” one controller said, his voice charged with excitement, ready for the coming action.

Jake’s mouth thinned with impatience.   The villagers were lucky, scum like these bastards would normally use them as human shields.

The first Flying Banana that landed kicked up dust in every direction from the spinning twin rotors.

From a window of the helo, Jake could see two Afghan villages laid out before him like miniature buildings in a sand box that they used for briefings. They had spied those villages from the blown out hole in the mountainside and this vantage point gave him a better idea of what they were up against. Further in the distance to the West, Jake saw the sprawling town of Spin Boldak. Spin, as he had covered in his Intel brief, was the one of the most active border crossing points between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

He felt the helo lurch under him as it descended rapidly in an evasive flight pattern in full combat mode, door gunner tense and alert on her six-barreled 7.62 minigun. Flaring at the last minute, the bird prepared to land.  Jake felt the hard landing travel up through his spine as the helo dropped into the loose gravel and sandy soil.

The thunder of the Boeing helo’s two massive engines and whirling blades shook the fuselage and his canvas seat so hard Jake felt it was going to tear apart. The high pitch speed was needed in case they took fire and had to rapidly take off to avoid being hit.

“Let’s go!” Jake yelled as he leaped up.  Elated  to be on the ground and on the hunt, the visceral reaction flowed powerfully through him as he led the charge off the ramp of the CH-46. They sprinted towards the ramp of the helo with gun muzzles down.  The aluminum, corrugated ramp reminded him of a Navy landing craft and they were storming the beaches of Normandy in WWII.  Only this time, storming from the air to hunt down the enemy.

The hurricane force winds of nearly one hundred miles an hour from the prop blasts buffeted his body, around making it impossible to run in a straight line.  The brown out, a violent sandstorm that was generated by the blades blasted the exposed parts of his body in what felt like thousands of tiny pinpricks gouging into his flesh.

He could see stretched out before him nearly fifty brown mud brick houses of the village. Limbs of lush green trees and bushes were flailing madly back and forth from the helo’s turbo blasted air mixed with sun and heated  desert air. The hot kerosene smell poured out the engines exhaust and covered him with its noxious odor.

“Break right, Red Team,” Jake bellowed over his right shoulder.

Jake glanced left and saw CAG and a new group of fresh Rangers pouring off their helo’s to the left flank of the village houses.

.

Jake watched in horror as an RPG rocketed out of the house in front of them and passed close to one of the helo’s before exploding behind it. He glimpsed his last man hurriedly leaping off the ramp.  Relief tunneled through Jake as he watched the helo spring instantly upward as if it was on a coiled spring and into the air. The door gunner mashed her trigger to cover their escape as the bird blasted off the target.

Burrrrr.

Flames leapt from the six barrels of the electric powered Gatling gun on board the helo as a stream of hundreds of rounds flew into the brown and red mud brick houses just ahead of them.

Jake watched as mini explosions smashed into the house, peppering the external walls from one end to another as the gunner whipped the weapon back and forth. Screams of Taliban men pierced the air where they had been hiding in those buildings.

“Game on!” Jake shouted into his comms as he ran. “We’re taking RPG fire and going hot, Red Leader.”   Huffing, explosions of air erupted out of his opened mouth, Jake heard Summer respond.  Now, it was time to rock ‘n roll.

Jake roared, “Send ‘em to hell Red Two!” and they opened up, tracer rounds reaching out and pounding through and around the window where the shot came from as they ran toward the house. Jake heard more glass shatter and the bricks surrounding the windows exploded into pieces and became deadly projectiles flying into the house.

Fine dust choked the air making it difficult to see due to the helo’s taking off, dispersing the dust hundreds of feet into the air.  He felt as if he were in a fog.  Coughing the dust out of his tortured lungs, Jake smelled the farmers livestock animal dung mixed in with the rolling, swirling dust surrounding them. The fine dust stuck to everyone’s sweaty features, turning them dark as they charged toward the house where the RPG was shot from.

Whoosh! Boom!

Jake jerked his chin up, the sound of an explosion coming from behind the building they were assaulting. The remote controller in White Sands, New Mexico had fired a hellfire missile from the overhead Predator, providing air support on their right flank. Fleeing Taliban fighters running out the back were blasted into pieces.  The air turned into a red mist.

Jake heard more explosions coming from their left flank.

Whoosh! Boom! Boom!

The air vibrated violently with the explosion.  Two more Hellfire missiles had exploded deeper into the village. The air was rent with small, violent earthquakes shaking the air apart around them. Automatic weapons fire cranked up from the heavy weapons men of the Ranger Battalion on the left side of the village.

Jake glanced left and saw the white flashes of explosions followed by Delta warriors firing as they ran. “Get some boys” Jake yelled across the village. “Hammer those son’s of bitches!”

“Clear all the houses” Jake barked into his mic to his Delta friends, “Don’t let any of these bastards escape.” Above all, Jake didn’t want Zawahiri, the ringleader of having the children murdered, slip away to kill again.  The rest of the Rangers still gathering Intel in the cave complex had passed on earlier that his body wasn’t among those killed.  The bastard had escaped.  Not for long if Jake had anything to do with it. 

Jake initiated the assault into the first house where the original RPG had been fired fro.  He aimed his M-4, firing into the doorframe next to the doorknob as they galloped forward. Rounds splintered the frame, exploding in all directions.  The door cracked open just before he hit the inward opening door on the run, smashing it open with a loud bang into the wall. Four of them instantly flooded the room and all silenced M-4’s began firing at two-bearded tango’s limping out the open back door. Rounds tore into their bodies and heads sending them both crashing to the concrete floor. Splattered blood and pockmarked holes in the house’s white walls. It left a gruesome testimony of their artwork.

“Clear left, clear right, all clear, move!” Jake barked, spinning on his heel, his M-4 raised and ready.

Jake heard more firing in the next house down the dirt street as they came out of the door of their cleared house. He saw a group of Red Men move quickly and meticulously through their sector of the village. “Cover the roof of that two story house,” Jake ordered, pointing down the street calling out, as he positioned his men. “Jordan take up position on the corner of that house.”

“Roger that, Chief,” Jordan said as he moved with gun raised up to eye level, carefully scanning as he moved up the narrow street to take up position.

Jake halted for a moment in the middle of a rutted street, two mud houses on either side of him.  Lifting his arm, he wiped his mouth with the back of the sleeve.  He watched as both forces methodically worked their way through the village, killing, or driving out any Taliban they ran up against. Jake could see that none of the tango’s were surrendering. Choosing to fight to the death. That’s perfectly all right with me…

A herd of about twenty-five abandoned, frightened brown and white goats moved all around Jake through the street. “Excuse me, Ma’am” Jake wisecracked as a female goat and her babies impeded his forward movement. The mother goat locked eyes with him with expressive blue eyes and as if she understood he was a friendly and quickly moved her babies around him, bleating and baaing.

“Smart little animals aren’t they?” Jordan laughed after witnessing the event.

Their bells tinkled and their bleating sounds echoed off the buildings. Their pungent smell wafted by Jake’s nostrils.  He hated the smell of goats and goat dung, cute or not.

Automatic weapons fire from AK-47’s and the spit of silenced M-4’s, curses in Pashtu and English from inside the building next to the herd, broke the serene moment.  It sent the herd of goats scurrying and bleating out their own brand of warning, racing down the street.

Jake rapidly scanned the surroundings at the edge of the village, holding security with his team.  Several of his men were on a knee as they were grabbing a five-minute rest.

Whoosh, boom!

Squinting, Jake looked up.  The Reaper’s were high in the sky and still firing Hellfire missiles here and there in the valley below them. When a missile struck its target, he saw brilliant, blinding light followed a split second later by the loud thunder clap of an explosion.  Concussion waves walked and rippled throughout the village, vibrating through his guts and chest.

Jake lowered his narrowing gaze.  He saw movement through green foliage further down in the valley.  “Look! There are those assholes, in the valley making their way to the next village,” he yelled..  Jake ordered his team into a hard trot to go after them.

“We’re through the village, Red Leader. Enemy troops still in sight, continuing pursuit.” Jake called out through explosive gasps of air. Sweat streamed down his face and he could feel his specially made Cry Precision desert cammo uniform stained with blood and dirt sticking to him, soaking wet. “Stay hydrated, men,” he called out grabbing his own Camelbak water tube, hanging over his left shoulder. The teipid water felt good running down his dry, tight throat.

The sun was getting lower in the sky over their right shoulders and began to cast frantic shadows of their running forms on the sandy ground ahead of them.

The rate of fire had been gradually picking up as the assault force picked off the stragglers in the rear. Any Taliban that were caught fleeing in the open, were shot. The mountains that were normally brown and dry were lush and green with foliage from the winter snowmelt and rains. This afforded concealment for the tangos as they tried to escape. Jake heard what sounded like angry hornets zipping over their heads. He had heard that sound many times and it usually sent a chill through him whenever he heard it. The sound he knew all to well was the sonic crack of supersonic bullets breaking the sound barrier over their heads. “Jordan remember that time we were stung by hornets as boy’s in the swamp?” Jake called as out as they ran.

“Yea, but I’m pretty sure the stingers on those are a might bit more painful,” and Jordan snickered.

As they looked up, pieces of leaves, twigs and bark began to shower down on them as if they were in a thunderstorm.  Jake cursed softly.  “That fire is still ineffective men, so we are going to press ahead,” he called out as they continued forward at a trot, ready for action.

“Red Leader,” Jake called, “we’re taking ineffective fire over our heads, but it’s a little close for comfort. Can the Reapers locate and illuminate the threat?”

“Negative Red Two, the UAV’s, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, have no visible targets. They must be shooting from inside houses.”

“Roger.” Jake replied, disheartened and worried for his men’s safety.  House-to-house searches were the most deadly to them.

Jake broke out of the concealment first at the edge of the last village before the Pakistan border. He saw flashes coming from deep inside a darkened house

“Take cover!” Jake yelled over his shoulder as he dove for a group of small boulders to his right. Crack, crack, crack as rounds exploded in the stones, sending rock chips and dust screaming in every direction.

Jordan landed next to him, “That was close, Jake,” he grunted in a strained voice. They hugged the ground trying to make small.

“Too fuckin’ close.”  Jake saw they were on the top edge of a ravine that ran up the right side of the village. “Break to the right, Red Squadron.”

“There’s a wadi, ravine, we can use as cover and concealment,” Jordan pointed out, gesturing sharply to his right.

Jake nodded and rolled to the right between two larger boulders and sighted in on a figure holding a weapon at about three hundred yards inside a building. It was a long shot with a short-barreled weapon. The red dot from his EOTECH sight was lined up on the head of the tango as Jake gently squeezed the trigger, dropping him with the first shot.

Two more figures dropped in quick succession as Jordan joined him in the shooting.

The Taliban broke contact and began running further into the village. The tango’s looked back, desperation and hatred in their faces.   Fear showed in their eyes, their movements jerky for the first time in the fight. Two Red Team snipers raced up with their 300 Win-mag’s with bipods. “Take it to ‘em boy’s” Jake said.  The snipers hit the ground with a sharp exhale of air and took aim through their long scopes. Two more tango’s with thick, black beards and loose fitting, brown salwar kameez clothing, were sent sprawling. Dust clouds erupted where their bodies slammed backward into the ground.

The Taliban were nearing the border with Pakistan, which lay less than a mile on the opposite side of the village.

Bud’s normally dry unemotional voice was tinged with anxiety. “Pick it up, Red Men!”

Jake felt his anxiety. The strain from over twelve hours of hard fighting was beginning to tell on everyone. Sweat rolling down his face in rivulets, he shouted into the mic to his team, “Sunset’s getting close.  Let’s finish these fuckers before they get across the border!” Their shadows were getting longer now as the sun dipped lower towards the horizon.

Jake had been on missions in the past where they had penetrated Pakistan for several miles, chasing fleeing Taliban. The CIA Chief of Station and Admiral McCafferty via secure videophone had told them specifically and unequivocally during the mission briefing, “Do not under any circumstance cross over the border during the operation.”

“What’s that about?” Jake had wondered out loud to Jordan during the brief. “We normally chase those bastards down until we finish them.”

Jordan had shrugged at the time.  “Got me Chief.”

Now that order was weighing heavily on them.

Jake and Jordon with the rest of Troop Two raced ahead on point of the Red Men. They were on the right flank of a pincer movement. CAG and the Rangers were clearing up the left side of the village like a volcano spewing magma, consuming everything in its path. Jake knew they needed to extend their lines so that they came together above the remaining Al- Qaeda group so that none could escape.  The two teams would then collapse in on them and destroy with a vengeance what was left.  Jake remembered the historic Battle of Cannae in which the Carthaginian general, Hannibal, had annihilated eighty thousand Roman legionnaires in a similar pincer’s movement.

He grinned and glanced at Jordan and said in a raspy general Patton tone,  “I hope like Hannibal we can destroy these sons of bitches.”

Jordan gave him an evil grin and a nod, continuing on at a fast pace, the village houses on their left.

The sound of a Soviet era DShK .50 caliber machine gun erupting snapped Jake out of his revelry.

Thump, thump, thump, fast, heavy, loud, just ahead and on the left of their ravine.  Jake could hear yelling, screaming and shouting in at least two different languages. His heart clenched and seemed to miss a beat when he determined the screams were that of American soldiers calling for help.

“Come on men!  We’ve got to help them,” Jake shouted over his right shoulder. They picked up the pace, all of them now breathing hard with the extra exertion and adrenaline dumping into their bodies.

Jake made an instant assessment that the side of the two-story building they were advancing towards was not being watched. All of the Taliban in the house were focused on the exposed CAG assault group.

“Red leader, we are moving in to assist CAG,” Jake gasped.  He’d barely gotten the words out as they picked the pace up to a sprint.

“Roger Red Two, we will cover you from the wadi,” Ed’s voice came back in ragged breaths as the command element rushed up to help provide cover.

Rasps of air tore out of Jake’s mouth as he lunged forward, scrambling through the ravine, leaping over small boulders, dodging thick, entangling brush, the shouts and screams of the trapped Americans growing louder.  Now more urgent.

A sharp, nagging thought pulled at Jake that he should hold his position.  Stay where they were.  But men were in trouble. THEIR men.   He dismissed it as an unwanted distraction and refocused on sprinting even faster, his legs cramping with the sheer power of his long strides and lunges.

Jake motioned with his left bloodstained gloved hand. He pointed where he wanted his troop to follow him. They were racing like thoroughbreds toward a metal gate in a ten-foot high perimeter wall. Anger surged through Jake as he thought of the Talban manning the machine gun cutting down his friends in Delta and the Ranger Battalion. Focus that anger. Use it to power my muscles. Use the anger to smash through that gate and enter the building like a tornado rips a house apart.

We’re going to make it! Jubilation soared through him. Jake could hear his band of brothers in step right behind him. They surged forward, like the thrust of a Spartan spearhead towards the gate.

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What is it like to discover your past lives?

August 19th, 2014 mjaco 2 comments

You were eons in the making.

Discovering who you have been is the greatest key

for reaching your full potential.

In my new book “The Awakening of Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered” I give many accounts throughout the book about my struggle to overcome the nagging doubts of whether or not I had lived previous lives as historical figures. Most people are very comfortable believing they have incarnated before. Over half the population of the earth believes in the transmigration of the soul but few literally connect with a past lifetime.

As a Navy SEAL, combat veteran, SEAL Team Six ,Red Man operator with over twenty-four years of experience and a senior enlisted officer my peers have always held me in high esteem. What was it that got me into this incredibly challenging position among the crème de la crème of Special Warfare operators? I have always had high integrity and unrelentingly pursued excellence in all that I do. I have also made it a primary component of my character to share with others what I felt helped lead me to a high level of excellence. Whatever that may be.

Past life exploration is part of the process that has continued my transformation in this life towards an unconquerable belief that we all have greatness within us. As the senior enlisted of the first phase of Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL BUD/S training the students looked up to me as an ideal SEAL that many of them desired to emulate. First phase of BUD/S contains the notorious Hell Week of training and to make it through this week of virtually no sleep and constant extreme physical activity everyone has to dig deep within their core to find the ability to continue on.

I became very scientific and artistic in apply pressure to mold and shape students. Like a piece of molten steel pulled from the fire of the furnace I hammered away like a skilled artisan shaping metal into a work of art. Every life you have lived is like going into the fire and coming out and being shaped into a finer and more exquisite work of art. A Japanese samurai sword of exceptional quality takes many months of work to make. The samurai sword smith considered his work a sacred art. A typical sword needed to be heated and folded many times before the right quality was achieved. Once the sword was chosen by its master it was considered an extension of his soul. The samurai treated his sword with reverence and awe.

The Japanese believe in reincarnation and like the samurai I had reverence for shaping the future souls of the Naval SEAL community and took great care in my work.

What typically goes through your mind when you initially begin to connect with past lifetimes? I’d long held a belief that I was incarnate in previous lifetimes so the process of finding and connecting with my soul development throughout history was like a fait accompli.

But what is it like for someone that has never tasted the sweet victory of connecting with a previous lifetime? I will let my new friend describe her experience in her own words.

Interestingly, one year ago any kind of past life exploration or reincarnation was nonexistent in my mind…I thought. I was an average AMERICAN woman, living my life, enjoying my children and grandchildren…traveling with my husband AND knowing that change was coming.

We both felt it…felt something, but what?

In my daily perusal of the internet I “happened” across Michael Jaco’s website, read the entire content in one setting, and ordered his book, “The Intuitive Warrior”.  When it arrived, my husband grabbed it and read it before I even had a chance to look at the book.  Of course, I was able to finally read it, and when I was finished, I immediately emailed Michael, asking him if he was real or just some weirdo with a hidden agenda.  How could a Navy SEAL actually be exploring past lives and reincarnation?

As emails began to be shared between the two of us he began to share a little more of his explorations and sent me a list of his past lives.  My husband and I read it and then were completely convinced that Michael Jaco was a complete head case…maybe too many vaccinations?  We disregarded his book and continued on with our lives as usual.

In the meantime, Mr. Jaco again emailed me asking me for my response to the information he had shared…I told him precisely what I thought.  A few weeks passed and this unsteady feeling kept bothering me.  I awoke one morning to an “Ah ha” and went into my meditation time thinking something was about to occur….. I literally envisioned being in another place at another time.  I shared the info with Michael who confirmed that he actually lived at that place during that time……. All of a sudden, my past lives began to come to me in torrents of information.  Not only was I confused but also fearful, I had never experienced anything like this in my life and didn’t want to jump into some sort of insanity…..LOL.

Michael suggested I seek counsel regarding these past lives. As a result, I went to see my REIKI practitioner, Kara Emmy, who confirmed to me that Michael Jaco was legitimate and a very evolved soul.  Having been a longtime client of Kara’s, I shared my visions with her and requested her guidance.  She helped me clarify what I was seeing and encouraged me to explore all that came to me.

In the meantime, I also sought help from Terry Zinn who is a specialized kinesiologist.  She muscled tested me to confirm or refute the lives I felt I had lived.   Unbelievably, we had about a 90% accuracy rate between my visions and her muscle testing results.  We were both pretty excited and impressed.

It seemed that my Iife was on the precipice of change. Since I was finally willing to explore more extensively, Michael suggested I also seek help from the well-respected psychic and author, Kevin Ryerson. Mr. Ryerson has channeled many lifetimes for the dancer, actress, and author Shirley MacLaine.

Unbelievably, my past life exploration has mushroomed into many lives, many places, many adventures and with many new friends, Michael and Tracy Tomlinson, being part of our own soul family.

One of my lives of interest is that of THEODORA, the daughter of Empress THEODORA and Emperor Justinian. AHTUN RE, who speaks through Mr. Ryerson told me that I was the daughter of Michael Jaco when Michael was Emperor Justinian and Michael’s wife, Tracy, was Empress THEODORA.   My husband was the court physician during that time of 515 CE when we all lived and knew each other.

AHTUN RE explained that the four of us shared a twin soul relationship, which means that our souls were created from the same SOURCE and that we have coexisted throughout time as siblings.

I would be remiss in not mentioning our most beloved twin souls, Tracy and Michael Jaco.  They have opened my husband and I up to many wonderful thoughts through many shared conversations and past life experiences.  You two are an inspiration and we thank you.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to seek several different counselors, none of which knew of the information imparted from one another.  ALL of the sessions with each practitioner completely validated one another and deepened my past life exploration.

Sonia Martin, my BEST practitioner, summed this all up when she said, “Why wouldn’t there be confirmation among the practitioners when we are all seeking the same truth?” I liked that statement.

We have learned through this marvelous adventure that souls reincarnate over and over again…exploring, learning and enjoying what life has to offer…that different types of soul relationships occur… soul mates, twin souls, soul groups.  Levels of twin soul relationships are being explored, new research is being observed and the evolvement of the soul is taking place. It is my sincere desire to help those interested in soul exploration and reincarnation to make the leap into the next dimension of life.

Namaste,

KAT

Kat’s amazing transformation and discovery of previous incarnations is not unique but common with people I have worked with. Kat mentions Soul Mates, which is literally a separated half of you as discussed by Shirley MacLaine in her book the Camino: A Journey of the Spirit. My wife Tracy Jo has been identified as my soul mate. We often but not always come together in time to work together and advance as soul mates. Do you feel you are with your soul mate? I’ve found that a soul mate relationship can be very rewarding and challenging at the same time. We are here to grow as spiritual beings and who would know how to motivate us to our full potential better than an actual piece of ourselves?

Kat and her husband are twin souls. When we are birthed initially as souls we usually arrive in groups of 6 to 12 twin souls, which are like siblings. There are 8 twin souls in our group of which we have found then all. Twin souls often come together singly or in groups to work together and learn in the environment of Earth’s third dimensional reality. Kat was Queen Hatshepsut of Egypt in a lifetime that I talk about in my book. Her husband in this life was Spartan King Leonidas in a previous lifetime which I also talk about in the book. Twin souls can be mates, offspring, siblings, friends or work mates. Our souls depart for the place between lives when we release our mortal clothes or as Henry David Thoreau said, “The soul comes from without into the body, as into a temporary abode, and it goes out of it anew as it passes into other habitations, for the soul is immortal.” We come up with a game plan for our next incarnation in the abode between mortal lives and often meet with our larger soul group for a huddle and game-winning plan before we break for the next life in 3D.

A soul group usually consists of around 20 souls on average. Michael Tomlinson is part of my soul mate and twin soul’s larger soul group in which we interact many times throughout time to also help each other develop. Michael and I have discovered many lifetimes working together not just to help our soul group but to also help the larger community of humanity. Look back in former articles to see several lifetimes of interactions that Michael and I work together and what that interaction is like on a soul group level. Shirley MacLaine is coincidentally part of my larger soul group and has been unwittingly motivating me to excel and develop my own past lives. We’ve had several past lives of interaction as I’ve discovered so far.

Discovering your own past lives is one of the most productive and empowering ways to advance to your highest potential in your lifetime. My book gives possibly one of the most intriguing past lifetime accounts in history. We are in a period of great change. As Kat said in her account: “It seemed that my Iife was on the precipice of change.” Many people fear change. I speak in my book “The Awakening of a Warrior” how fear is the opposite of love, holds us back from reaching our full potential and is in no way a positive. Do you love yourself? Before you can ever truly love anyone or anything else you must first learn to love yourself.

When you discover loving yourself more fully you will naturally gravitate to exploring deeper aspects of yourself. Deep within your core self is your heat, your fire. When you touch that fire you will not be burned you will be transformed into something far greater. You have been eons in the making reach down and find your amazing potential.

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Past Life Interview on Gnostic Warrior

August 16th, 2014 mjaco No comments

A fast paced interview with Moe Bedard at www.GnosticWarrior.com

I go into the lives I cover in my book: The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered and many more.

More interviews will be forthcoming in the weeks ahead so stay tuned.

jaco-slide-2

http://gnosticwarrior.com/michael-k-jaco-interview.html

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What can past life research do for you?

August 12th, 2014 mjaco 1 comment

I know many of you question what value could arise in the discovery of your own past life incarnations. Personally I have found an amazing amount of gratification and believe that everyone can experience a similar if not even greater level of fulfillment and pleasure. The techniques for accessing your individual past lives are scientific, professional and easy to do.

Many of my own experiences are detailed in my new book The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered. In this article I’ll outline and give examples of what many others and I are experiencing and profiting from the rich treasure of our past lives through simple techniques. What can you gain from past life research?

-        I have discovered why I naturally have proclivities and skills that came easily to me. For instance having success becoming a Navy SEAL and excelling as a warrior became clear when I found many lifetimes as Spartan, Roman and Viking warriors to name but a few. What comes easily to you? Would you be fascinated to find you have excelled in your current area of expertise in many lifetimes? What are you drawn to?

-        Family members and friends that I have been really close to were found to have incarnated with me through multitudes of lifetimes. Discovering this made clear to me why we were so close and natural with each other. Would you be surprised to learn you have incarnated with your family, close friend or significant other for eons? Would it intrigue to know that you have been part of a soul group that works together helping each other throughout time?

-        I have had release from physical, emotional and psychological trauma from past lives. If we dig far enough back into our lifetimes we unearth and often instantly release blocking and debilitating trauma from the past. Do you suffer from unexplainable pain? Do you have inexplicable fears and or psychological issues that you or no one around you understands?

-        Discovering past lifetimes made history come alive for me like no lecture or book could ever do. My view of current events in the world is much clearer after having seen the long struggle throughout time to arrive where humanity is at today. Do you wonder at how the governmental, religious and economic systems seem to have evolved the way they have? Would it surprise you if you have been closely involved in many different governments, religions and economic systems other than your current one throughout time?

There are many deeper aspects of past life discovery that are too numerous to relate here. The overall scope of my intent here is to communicate this deeply rewarding possibility that exists within each and every one of us. We can all discover that we have been here on earth before many times. It lies just below the surface of our consciousness waiting for us to discover this hidden treasure. It’s buried so that until and when we are ready the teacher will arrive. Are you ready?

We incarnate to experience, learn, over come challenges and grow from them and ultimately to love on a deeper and ever more exquisite level in every new lifetime. Why wouldn’t we want to keep coming back?

Reincarnation is like experiencing a thrilling ride at your favorite amusement theme park. Do you ride that exhilarating ride just once? Do you ride just one ride or do you cycle through many different ones? Does it take you many trips to experience all that you want to encounter? Of course there are many souls that want to experience these rides so we may not get to all we want to encounter in just one trip. Do you enjoy coming back with different family members, friends, significant other, your close soul group, and have a different experience? Such is life and so are our many lifetimes.

Another joy that I have experienced through sharing my past lifetimes is meeting new people and watching and learning from them as they experience their own past life discoveries. One of the joys of sharing something exciting and life changing is that you learn just as much from others experiences as you do from your own.

One such newfound friend and part of my soul group as I’ve discovered is Michael Tomlinson who I met after he read my first book The Intuitive Warrior. I had been drawn to the work of the famous samurai warrior Musashi Miyamoto since I was a young man studying martial arts long before I had a full understanding of past lifetimes. I read the book authored by Musashi The Book of Five Rings, which is more a philosophical work than a teaching of how to be a warrior. Even Japanese housewives today read this classic work of art and garner inspiration. The book has been translated into English and has long been a hit in America and elsewhere.

I discovered several years ago that I was Miyomoto’s close student and friend Terao Magonojo throughout much of his lifetime where we fought together in many battles and I was also his second at his many famous duels.

Michael and I eventually got into a discussion about past lifetimes and this eventually led to Michael’s own independent discovery of a lifetime as Miyamoto Musashi. I will let Michael describe his life as Miyamoto and how he initially became involved in past life research.

I happened upon Michael Jaco’s book The Intuitive Warrior one day while searching for a friend’s book on Amazon. Michael’s book was offered as recommended reading, and it was the only other book offered to me that day, which was kind of odd. I checked his book out on Amazon and decided to buy it because it looked like interesting reading.  While I was reading Michael’s book over the course of several weeks I kept getting these odd notions that I knew Michael and I had heard a lot of what was in the book before.

What I am talking about here is not that I had a formulated idea about what I was reading or prior knowledge of the subject matter, it was like I was hearing the words come right out of my own mind. I know this sounds strange and trust me, this has never happened to me before. It was so disconcerting that I mentioned it to my wife one day. I told her “this book I’m reading now is strange, it’s like I know this author from somewhere, it feels like it parallels my own mind” she looked at me and smiled and I said to her “yeah I know that sounds crazy but I just can’t explain it”.

After reading The Intuitive Warrior I looked up Michael on Facebook and messaged him that I was a long time martial artist, and that I had enjoyed his book. I didn’t mention to him how the book had made me feel while reading it because I didn’t want him to think I was some crazy person contacting him.  A few months later a family member of mine posted a photo of me when I was a toddler on Facebook and Michael mentioned that after looking at the photo he had the intuition that we had known each other in a past life.  That started a conversation between us on the aspects of reincarnation and how I had gotten a lot of strange impressions while reading his book. I have always believed in reincarnation but had never really talked about it to very many people. At this point Michael gave me a great base of knowledge on how to get started down the past life regression path.

I decided to look up some past life regression hypnotherapists in my area and found a lady named Diane Ross. She has been a licensed hypnotherapist for quite a long time and I got a positive feeling from her when we first met. While in college I majored in Drawing and Printmaking and in a Psychology class I remembered learning about hypnosis, so I had a basic understanding of how it worked.  Diane explained to me about the different brain wave states and assured me that hypnotherapy was based in science and not some sideshow act. I mentioned to her that I was interested in past life study but I was just curious about what would happen. She explained that being curious and not having an agenda would probably give me the best results.

During the initial stages of my second past life regression I looked down at my feet and noticed they were covered with silk embroidered foot coverings that I had never seen before. I had a matching pair of baggy styled leg coverings on and around my waist I could see a wide wrapping and two distinct swords. I was walking down a very nice gravel path and I was in Kyoto. I have never been to Japan before so this knowledge came to me as a surprise. I was on my way to have a duel with another Samurai. I was then progressed to the moment of the duel while the two of us were in a position to draw our swords. I could see the Samurai across from me and his intent to attack. As soon as I sensed his intent I drew my sword and cut him down.

Later during the regression I was exiting a house in which there was a meeting about battle strategy and as I stepped out to the porch area I saw Michael Jaco standing with several of our Samurai clan and I could tell he was in charge of them. Michael Jaco followed along as we walked to the battle and he was always on my right hand side. During one of these battles we were engaged with enemy Samurai and Michael was fighting on my right side. The scenes were so vivid that I could see everything from the embroidered patterns and colors on our armor and clothing to the actual movements and cuts we were using with our swords.  During this regression Diane ask me what my name was in that life time and I told her Miyamoto Musashi. I also told her that I wrote a book later in my life and that most people think the book is about strategy but I actually hid the true meaning of the writings in the book and very few people understand what my writings are truly about. I will leave this part out for now since it is rather detailed and esoteric.

During the end of the regression Diane ask me several questions about how my life ended and how I felt about that overall lifetime.  This regression was awe inspiring and took me totally by surprise. Afterwards I have done some research and found a lot of what I said under hypnosis to match with what I saw. I am condensing this regression information which actually lasted an hour and twenty minutes for this article but suffice to say the information I learned about myself in that lifetime as Miyamoto Musashi is with me every day now.

When Michael Tomlinson began to awaken his past life memories they helped ignite in me many memories of past lives working together. As you begin to have your own memories and past life connections with others you will have similar recollections begin to reveal themselves in their own right time. Your treasure chest has many layers of jewels and as you pull one out your eye will be caught by the glimmer of another even more beautiful than the one you just discovered.

I began connecting the dots with already discovered past lifetimes. I discovered that Michael Tomlinson was the Bodhidharma who was a Buddhist monk who lived during the 5th or 6th century CE. He is traditionally credited as the transmitter of Zen Buddhism to China, and regarded as its first Chinese patriarch. According to Chinese legend, he also began the physical training of the Shaolin monks in Kung Fu Styles. As Gushi Khan in that lifetime I have memories being one of his first disciples and eventually the second patriarch of Chinese Buddhism.

I uncovered that Michael was also Tokugawa Ieyasu (January 31, 1543 – June 1, 1616) who was the founder and first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate of Japan. When I looked at a statue of Ieyasu during an intuitive hunch it was clear that Michael and the famous samurai were one. They look identical. We often carry similar physical traits from one lifetime to the next.

During this same period I was the Korean admiral Yi Sun-shin April 28, 1545 – December 16, 1598) who was a Korean naval commander, famed for his victories against the Japanese navy. As a Navy SEAL working with Korean SEAL’s in south Korea I had become enthralled at Yi’s Turtle fleet and incredible victories.

Between these two lives we had a major impact on stopping early Japanese imperial aggression. My soul group has been aggressively involved in reversing negative factions throughout history.

In The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered I have a chapter dedicated to giving you ideas on how to get started in discovering your own past lives. I have twenty-one life times in ancient history that I have uncovered and present in the book. These lives have deep insights that can have a major impact on humanity similar to my other book The Awakening of a Warrior.

I am also currently conducting interviews, which I will post on my site for your enjoyment when they become available.

Whether you currently believe in past lives or are just curious I highly recommend that you engage a qualified hypnotherapy regressionist to explore your own treasure trove of past lives anxiously waiting within you to be discovered.

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Spartan 16 Chapter One

August 7th, 2014 mjaco 2 comments

I’ve started a new work of fiction loosely based off of life experiences and people I’ve worked with as a SEAL Team Operator.

Navy SEAL

Spartan 16

Chapter 1

SEAL Chief Jake Wilkins silently raised his gloved fist. The motion meant stop.  Instantly, the signal was passed back through the lines of ninety Tier One Assault Force operators.  Everything settled into a tense expectancy as SEALs, Rangers and Delta Force operators dropped and immobilized into a crouch. Two barely discernable hisses were heard as if a cobra was exhaling before striking its prey. The shots from the silenced fifty caliber sniper rifles had been accurate.  The muffled sounds of two Taliban sentries hitting the ground dead were heard a split second apart.

Jake heard the code word for the assault to begin with a vengeance from the Red Squadron commander.  “Tuna! Tuna! Tuna!” came over the helmet coms.  His lips lifted away from his clenched teeth as he thought about Mustafa’s family who had been tortured to death by this group of vicious Taliban.  Rage tunneled through him.  He had worked with a number of Pashtun villages, gotten them medicine, dental care, food and clothing for the long winter.  Mustafa’s three children, five, eight and ten, had called him “uncle.”  And he had been all of that and more to those three innocent children.

The Taliban had made examples of the children, stripping their flesh from their thin, naked bodies, hoisting them up on ropes to hang dying in the trees near the village as a warning. Those son-of-a-bitches were going to pay for what they did to them. Releasing an explosive breath, Jake controlled his rage and focused it. “Lets get those bastards”, he whispered harshly into the mic to his SEAL Team Six troop behind him. His breath was white vapor, the late March sun just an hour away from rising.

The Afghanistan Hindu Kush lorded over them like jagged old men with a front row seat to the fierce battle that was about to rage. The relatives of Mustafa had wailed and sobbed, women tearing their hair, beating their breasts with their fists as Jake and his team gently and carefully took down each dead child and tenderly wrapped them in clean blankets.  There were no dry eyes in his squad.  A number of the SEALs were fathers and it was too much for them to take. Jake hadn’t cried at that time, instead, filled with numbing grief.

In the last two days during the hunt for the Taliban group at nine thousand feet, tears had leaked unexpectedly out of his eyes from time to time, freezing on his lashes and cheeks. They’d moved stealthily throughout the night to catch up with them, over ten miles of narrow goat trails, often with treacherous sheer cliffs, to reach their objective. Now they were ready to enter the elusive Taliban’s lair that was nestled deep in a secret cave system their enemy thought was secure. Jake’s legs were trembling, calves cramped from the relentless trek to reach this cave complex before dawn.  It’s pay back time.

Jake gave the move signal, his hand slashing forward. The pace picked up faster and faster. The assault force quickly closed the distance toward the dark and foreboding cave entrance barely seen between craggy rocks and snow. His heart pulsed several beats and he consciously willed himself to take deeper breaths. “Slow the pace,” Jake hissed in a whisper into his comms.

His fingers manipulated the switches on his Surefire infrared light systems mounted on top of his helmet and beneath the barrel of his weapon. Their combined lights would illumine the cave but still be invisible to the naked eye. Jake remembered how the caves of Tora Bora had taught the teams that night vision goggles were useless without some sort of ambient light. They now had the power of the stars to see in the darkness of the cave system, no problem.

With his four lensed, wide angle, night vision goggles he could clearly see the group of forward assaulters. Their weapon mounted infrared lasers danced and flitted about like fireflies in the black night.

The men of the Red Man Squadron swiftly penetrated the craggy entrance to the cave. Rebel, the point man of his troop and his best friend, was the first to enter the black maw. The dry, warmer air of the cave rushed by Jake and the familiar but never welcome smell of Taliban body odor and human waste assailed his nostrils and almost made him gag.

They moved ephemerally like transitory ghosts in the night. A downward sloping narrow rock passageway opened abruptly into a vast cavern with a dark, menacing one hundred foot high ceiling. “Break right Troop Two,” Jake whispered into his helmet’s boom mic. Moving in step beside him, was Troop One’s leader, who made the call for his troop to “break left.”

Each troop had seven enlisted men and one senior enlisted troop leader. Four troops made up a squadron. Two junior officers or element leaders were assigned to one of two troops. With a senior officer as troop commander and senior enlisted as overall enlisted commander a squadron usually consisted of thirty-four operators. The lead element of two troops moving down the stone passageway was followed closely by element two. They all silently flooded through the opening like a destructive tsunami devouring the landscape.

Dozens of safeties on silenced M4’s rapidly clicked into a semi-fire mode when the shooters spotted their threat. Fifty Taliban fighters were spread, tightly packed, across the cave floor, sleeping and unaware. Jake allowed his grief and rage for the dead children to fully flow through him.  The slaughter was about to begin.

The Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters had each wrapped themselves in their ever-present winter cloak of brown wool. Lying untouched beside each man could be seen an AK-47.  They were going to be completely caught off guard Jake thought with dark satisfaction.

“Switch on thermal,” he whispered.  The scope could distinguish the body heat of men covered in wool blankets. The red heat outlines of bodies inside the bundles instantly came alive in their scopes like demons from Dante’s Hell. All four troops were moving sideways heel to heel in a quick, silent shuffle along the wall of the French cathedral-like cave. Weapons were poised to fire.

Jake and his squadron trained in shooting hundreds of rounds everyday at their base in Afghanistan. He and many of the Red Men could fire three headshots in less than a second. Jake had been a star fullback in his high school in Charleston, South Carolina. He often reflected how athletes in colleges and professional teams throughout the world competed against each other. Ecstatic crowds cheered their favorites as leather balls moved back and forth across a small field. The Red Men competed against each other in how fast they could hit several targets the size of a ball in less than one second.

No adoring fans would cheer as they performed their deadly skill now.

Jake’s low snarling order came through the mic.  “Commence fire!” Thirty-two assaulters remorselessly spit death from their silenced M-4’s. Frangible rounds penetrated skulls and bodies and then fragmented so that they would cause the most internal damage. The bullets were designed to also not penetrate through the body to cause collateral damage to the team. Several Taliban bolted upright, but were instantly knocked back down in a hail of bullets as if kicked by a mule into the chest.  Jake watched dispassionately as the bodies writhed and jerked in death throes.

The acrid smell of spent ammo stung Jake’s nostrils but was soon replaced with the metallic, coppery smell of blood.

“Search teams out!” Jake ordered. He watched as two pairs of designated men from each troop began to quickly move amongst the blood soaked bundles. They surgically delivered the coup de grace headshots to insure the bodies wouldn’t spring up later like some bad horror movie. From the moment of their entrance into the cave, the gory work was done in little more than a few minutes. The glow from the corpses began to fade in the thermal scopes. Death covered the floor of the cave with its black cloak.  Silence hung heavy.

The children’s screams had carried out across the village and no one there could stop the Taliban from torturing them. Parents and relatives shrieked and screamed, begging for the innocent children’s lives. Villagers could only turn away, sobbing, eyes shut, hands over their ears, helpless. Even their religious leader, a man in his sixties with a long white beard, had run out to the Taliban leader, pleading, begging them not to harm the crying, frightened children. The Taliban leader had calmly turned, pulled out the Glock handgun he had gotten off an American soldier he had killed months earlier, and shot the old man in the head.

With eyes transfixed on the lifeless forms, Jake whispered into his mic “Initial chamber clear, Red Leader.”  Sweat stung his eyes and he blinked several times to clear them. He felt a burning satisfaction spread throughout his chest as he surveyed the carnage.

“Roger, Red Two,” said Ed Summers, Red Squadron leader and force commander.

Jake was in charge of the assault force while Ed and the Squadron Senior Chief Bud Parker, were positioned outside at the entrance to the cave.

“Initiate tunnel rats,” Commander Summers ordered into his mic. The Delta/Combat Applications Group (CAG) and Rangers moved like hungry lions into the tunnel.

A week earlier, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) surveillance drone had detected the large movement of forces across the Pakistani border. Although several weeks before the normal spring offensive, this was not unexpected. Jake knew the weather had been unseasonably warm for this time of year. CIA Case Officers working their human intelligence (Humint) sources had determined at that date none other than the number two in Al-Qaeda led this group. To have the Egyptian physician Al Zawahiri leading a joint Al-Qaeda and Taliban force, was stunning and unexpected.

Jake leaned over to his best friend and shooting partner, Jordan, who was also from Charleston, South Carolina. “That felt good,” he said with a relieved sigh.

Jordan growled, “Nothing like a little pay back for Mustafa’s kids.”

Jake saw the vengefulness shining in Rebel’s eyes. Their troop had come into the village a day after the massacre. What met their eyes stunned them. They were all experienced in the horrors of war, but this scene had not prepared them.

All of the parent’s lifeless forms lay sprawled with a single bullet in each of their heads.  They were silent witnesses below the bodies of their beloved children swaying above them in the cold morning air. Rebel had helped him take down the youngest child and had cried openly, unashamed as they wrapped the boy in a brown wool blanket. Now, Rebel looked triumphant, a grisly smile across his mouth. Pay Back.

Jake motioned to the CAG operators entering the cathedral cave to position close to their pre-designated tunnels on the left. Like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, seven tunnels radiated out from the main chamber.  Jake’s troop would hold security on the larger center chamber until several of the other smaller tunnels were cleared. The Red Men would divide a tunnel each between the remaining three troops and simultaneously take the three tunnels on the right while CAG took the three left.

Amazingly they still had surprise on their side because the M-4’s silencers had muzzled the sounds of shots. Special mesh bags attached to the side of the weapons had caught the extracted shell casings so that all sound was absorbed entirely within the cavern itself. Not a shell had dropped to the floor to awaken the sleeping enemy.

Jake held his thumb up from a center position of his team.  The cave looked like a cathedral without stained glass windows. “Thumb’s up troop leaders when you are ready,” he whispered. He then glanced swiftly around and saw six of them raise thumbs.  Satisfaction flowed through him as he called out “Execute, Execute, Execute!”

Trains of heavily armed warriors packed one behind the other, instantly penetrated the six tunnels, dominating them. Multiple rooms branched off each tunnel and were laden with more insurgents. Jake hoped the force could maintain surprise and not be compromised to the forces located on the lower levels of this massive cave system. The Red Men and CAG forces silently and methodically began eliminating more sleeping fighters in each room as they came upon them.

The CIA had secretly improved the entire cave complex during the time of the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Jake was working with a CIA Analyst at J-bad, Jalalabad, that had remembered mention of its location during her investigation of historical information related to the area. They’d gotten the blueprints sent the next day from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. And now, that map was branded into his brain and he’d memorized all of it. Nostrils flaring, Jake took in the sour smell of himself and the men sweating around him, the cave was warmer than the outside air.

The Rangers were doing the macabre task of taking IR, infrared, photographs of the faces of the dead and stacking them in the center of the chamber. An explosion rumbled from chamber one on the right. Jake and his shooting partner, Jordan, glanced at each other with concerned looks. Everyone froze and looked expectantly towards tunnel one.

“Tunnel one, situation report?” Jake demanded in a strained tone. There was a tense pause, and then came the reply. “All okay, Red Two,” Jay said. With his best southern drawl he added, “An attempt to throw a hand grenade by one of the insurgents backfired.”

Jake could almost see Red One’s silly assed smirk while he embellished the account.  Jake grinned darkly and muffled a chuckle. Jay sounded like he was on vacation with him, sitting out on the front porch of his mother’s southern mansion bed and breakfast in Charleston. He could picture Jay rocking idly in his rocking chair, not a care in the world looking out over the harbor towards Fort Sumter.  Jay would have sweet tea in his hand. Such was the ability of highly trained professionals to present a low-key atmosphere in such a highly charged, unpredictable situation.  And black humor was part and parcel of everything they did. His grin widened and the tension sloughed off his shoulders.

“Red Leader, tunnel rat operation proceeding as planned, all okay.” “Roger, Red Two” came the reply from Bud, Ed’s right hand man during missions.

Jake knew that the information was being relayed by the command element on the surface to the expectant CIA headquarters where they would be intently monitoring their progress. The CIA’s interest and involvement in the mission had been highly pronounced.   Jake blinked the burning sweat out of his eyes.

Three Star Navy SEAL Admiral Joseph McCafferty, Commander of Special Operations Command in Tampa, Florida, was also monitoring the operation. Fighting Joe McCafferty had given the approval for the mission to begin with. His decision to mount it, had been viewed as a highly unorthodox and dangerous undertaking, but Jake knew his leader never took risks.  McCafferty knew more about this type of tactical pursuit when it came to caves than anyone else. The SEAL Admiral had approved Jake’s first fighting course for the Navy SEAL Teams early in his career. Jake liked his style and he liked the man who had always shadowed his career in the best of ways.

Jake tensed as several AK-47 rounds were heard echoing hollowly in tunnel six where the CAG operators were clearing. Instantly, the excited voice of the CAG leader came across, “We have one minor wounded in tunnel six coming out.”

“Roger, send him out,” Jake replied, no longer in a whisper. The words came out tight. Worried. “Wounded coming out of six” Jake called out behind him.

Two Air force Special Forces Pararescue Jumper operators had quickly positioned themselves to receive the wounded CAG operator.  Jake knew these 18 Delta medical qualified men were the most highly trained medical people in the world when it came to dealing with combat injuries. That CAG operator would be in the best of hands.

Jake’s earpiece blared, “Tunnel Two, Tango’s, Terrorists, KIA 14, Oscar, Operators, all okay. Coming out.”

“Roger. Come out,” Jake ordered. From his position within the cave, he passed the information to Bud.

Red Men started streaming out of Tunnel Two, hustling soundlessly, M-4 barrels pointed up toward the ceiling, and began to position themselves in front of the main tunnel. They needed three troops at a minimum to begin penetration of the next deadly level. No one knew what lay in wait for them in the dark recesses below. A CAG troop joined them in a rush as if still unsatisfied from their initial feast, and hungry for more.

“We are in position and ready to assault level two, Red Leader” Jake said, suppressing his excitement.

“Roger Red Two” came a raspy, gruff reply from Bud. “I will assume operational control of level one.”

Bud hastily came down toward the tunnel where they waited and gave him the thumb’s up to proceed. Ed Summers remained on the surface. With him would be an Air Force Combat Controller that would be relaying communications with the controllers of two MQ-9 Reaper drones providing surveillance and each carrying fourteen Hellfire missiles. Jake thought momentarily of the Rangers that were providing security. They came from a long lineage that traced back to his home state of South Carolina. Revolutionary commander Francis Marion, the “Swamp Fox”, developed irregular methods of warfare against the British army and was the father of modern guerrilla warfare.  And now he was seeing the twenty-first century version of what Marion had created, and they were warriors in their own right.

Jake was eager to get back into the fight and got the thumb’s up from the other two troop leaders. He turned and looked towards the metal grate stairs leading to level two. Below them lay a large operations room that was the heart of the whole complex. Several more tunnels led off to more barracks rooms like the one they were on. The last troops were almost finished and were passing their Tango KIA information to the officer in charge of gathering and reporting the numbers to Summers.

Jake gave Jordan a firm squeeze on the shoulder signifying all was ready. Jordan had been holding security on the stairwell to the lower level, his weapon at the ready. He was like a coiled panther ready to spring on its prey and moved out rapidly as point man once more after he received the silent hand signal to initiate.

Jordan began moving with rifle pointing towards the stairs. Jake and the rest of the force followed closely on his heals like a band of Vikings descending fearlessly into the dark underworld. Their battleaxes magically transformed into tricked out M-4’s.

Ting, ting, ting!

Automatic weapon shots rang out from below and impacted on the steel railing the moment they reached the stairs.

“Give ‘em the cold steel boys”, Jake shouted.

Jordan, Jake and several Troop Two operators opened up into the abyss with their weapons on full auto, sighting the figures firing from below. Several forms fell like scythed wheat to the dirt floor. Several tangos limped or ran out of the range of their shots.

“Move!” Jake snapped.

They ran down the stairs with their weapons at the ready. Their boots pounded out heavy footfalls on the rusting steel grating of the staircase that dropped into the long ago drilled out hole and into the cavern below. They shot at anything that moved. Running gun battles raged through the passages of level two as the rest of the available force avalanched into the next cavern.

Jake and Jordan aggressively entered a small chamber together. Jake turned right along the wall of the rock-hewn room when suddenly, a heavy wooden bunk bed was flung against him, trapping his slung M-4 and right arm against the wall. Two Taliban leaped out from behind their makeshift trap towards him. His left hand shot down to his left hip and he unsheathed a 6-inch double-edged knife blade. The blade sank into the nearest attackers neck and severed major veins, arteries and nerves leading to and from the brain.  The first attacker collapsed, his scream a gurgle. Hot blood shot out in spurts from the entrance wound, soaking through Jake’s gloved hand and arm.

Jerking the razor sharp blade upward. Jake grunted, twisted slightly and back hand parried a blade thrust from the second attacker who tried to use his own drawn knife on him. A split second later, he thrust his blade into the second attacker’s neck. The second tango’s knife arm dropped useless after having his brachial plexus nerves in the neck severed. With a grunt, he dropped unconscious, due to massive blood loss to his brain. Jake knew death would occur for both men in less than a minute as the heart stopped due to the rapid loss of blood volume through the wounds.

Jordan had entered a split second after Jake to clear the left wall.  Two tangos pushed another heavy bed toward him, completely pinning him to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye Jake saw two more figures running towards Jordan as they kept his friend imprisoned.  With a hiss, Jake threw the knife spinning through the air.  The blade struck Jordan’s closest assailant. A cracking sound snapped through the air as the blade shattered the rear of the man’s skull.  The blade severed his brain stem and he dropped to the floor, as if turning off a light switch.

A moment after the blade left his hand, Jake hit the quick release on his chest mounted M-4 sling. Breath exploded out of him as he pushed the bed off him, releasing him so he could protect his friend.   He ignored the wet, sticky blood oozing down across his H-gear and chest.  Wiping the hot blood from his mouth, he spat to the left and dug in his toes into the fine dirt of the cave. Hurtling toward his shooting partner and rapidly closing the distance toward a giant tango.

He instantly drew the SOCOM .45 caliber Desert Eagle handgun in his drop holster around his right leg. As the pistol rocketed free of the holster, Jake instantly rotated it at the hip and began firing into the second attacker. The first rounds tore into the center mass of the tango at chest level, smashing into his heart from the side. As Jake continued firing repeatedly, bringing his weapon up to eye level, he squeezed off a well-aimed shot into the brain’s kill switch of his fourth tango.  The massive Taliban male toppled over like a giant sequoia tree from the last chop of a woodsman’s axe.

Jake walked over and pushed on the bed, freeing Jordan, who was cursing eloquently and still squirming to gain freedom.

Jordan turned and surveyed the carnage in the room, his mouth ajar in disbelief.  He was starting to form words to speak.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jake rasped, breathing hard as his friend looked back and forth at him and the four dead men splayed out on the cave floor. “Come on quit lollygagging we’ve still got work to do,” Jake urged, feeling the high of adrenaline streaking through him.

Just then, a thunderous noise cracked the air louder than the mayhem still raging outside in the main chamber. The earth rumbled and quaked as if angry at being disturbed from her slumber. Jake and Jordan shot a wide-eyed look at each other and then rushed out of the chamber, rocks falling all around them from the ceiling.

Anger flowed through Jake. Eyes narrowed, he connected with each of the combat proven operators left in the room during the operational brief. A hard lump grew in his throat as he thought about the children.

“This Taliban unit is full of ruthless bastards.  They aren’t like other Taliban units we’ve come up against.  They’re barbaric against local, defenseless civilians.”  His voice turned steely.   “My troop witnessed what these bastards are capable of after seeing three young children they’d skinned alive a few days ago at Mustafa’s village. They wanted to make the kids examples so that the villagers would not ever consort with Americans again.”

He saw everyone’s lips thin, their jaws compress with anger. The look in their eyes told Jake that they would wage war as if they were King Leonidas’s Spartan Warriors resurrected. Jake smiled inwardly as everyone stood and began to gather their weapons and gear for the next step in the cave operation.

Dust was still falling from the ceiling of the third and last level of the cave as Jake’s troop led down the decrepit, worn metal stairs. Several of the men stifled coughs from the fine dust that rose into the air from the battle. Their black Adidas GSG9 assault boots made metallic echoes into the darkness as they descended that grate.  Surprisingly no gunfire rang out. After the noise from the battle above, it seemed like they were entering a crypt, it was so quiet.  The hair on the back of Jake’s neck rose.  His intuition told him something was terribly wrong.

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Excerpt from: The Awakening Of A Warrior: Past Lives Of A Navy SEAL Remembered

July 11th, 2014 mjaco No comments

The Awakening of a Warrior:

Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered

Copyright 2014 Michael Jaco

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1497521262

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my soul mate and lovely wife, Tracy Jo. She has been a constant source of love, motivation, inspiration, support, and insight in many of my past lives and now in my current life.


Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Introduction

Chapter I              King Yudhisthira during the Time When the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita Were Written, 3500 BCE

Chapter II             How to Access Your Previous Incarnations

Chapter III           Pharaoh Menes’s Nubian Head Charioteer, 3100 BCE

Chapter IV            Egyptian Pharaoh Senusret I, Ruled from 1971–1926 BCE

Chapter V             With Patriarch Abraham as King Abimelech of Gerar, 1800 BCE

Chapter VI            Warrior Sage for Pharaoh Hatshepsut to Traditional Warrior for Pharaoh Thutmose III, 1480 BCE

Chapter VII          King Idomeneus of Crete with Hercules, Crew of the Argo, and at the Trojan War, 1520–1470 BCE

Chapter VIII         Pharaoh Akhenaton’s Warrior Priest, Heir to the Throne as Prince Nakhtmin, and Exodus with Moses, 1400–1350 BCE

Chapter IX           Benaiah, Son of Biblical Uriah, during King David’s and King Solomon’s Reign, Tenth Century BCE

Chapter X             Lycurgus of Sparta, Regent, Lawgiver, and Creator of the Commonwealth of Sparta, 820–730 BCE

Chapter XI           Numa Pompilius, Second King of Rome, 753–673 BCE

Chapter XII          Thales of Miletus, Pre-Socratic Greek Philosopher, 624–546 BCE

Chapter XIII         A Jewish General in Captivity in Babylon, 587 BCE

Chapter XIV         Cyrus the Great, Unifier of the Persian Empire, 600–529 BCE

Chapter XV          Ananda, Personal Assistant of the Buddha Siddhartha Gautama, 500 BCE

Chapter XVI         Parmenides of Elea, Founder of the Eleatic School of Philosophy, 515–450 BCE

Chapter XVII        Themistocles, Greek Politician and General, 524–460 BCE

Chapter XVIII       Pausanias, Spartan General and Regent, 480 BCE

Chapter XIX         Marcus Furius Camillus, Second Founder of Rome, 446–365 BCE

Chapter XX          Thucydides, Athenian General and Historian, 460–411 BCE

Chapter XXI         Xenophon, Greek Historian, Author, Philosopher, and General, 430–355 BCE

Chapter XXII        Lysander, Spartan Admiral during the Peloponnesian War, 405 BCE

Afterword

Works Consulted


Acknowledgments

I’d like to acknowledge the contributions of Kevin Ryerson and his tireless efforts to enlighten humanity. This book would not have been possible without Kevin’s invaluable service as a trance channel. Kevin is a trance channel, which means that when he works, he goes into a meditative state or trance and allows spirit beings to speak through him. Kevin has worked with the famous actress Shirley MacLaine for more than thirty years and is featured in four of her books. Kevin’s own intuitive observations during our many enjoyable conversations together have also led me to research and uncover further past life insights.

I would also like to acknowledge my friend in several former lives, Ahtun Re. In my first channeled session with Kevin, Ahtun Re told me at the end of our conversation that we had been friends in previous lifetimes. Ahtun Re’s last incarnation occurred approximately 3,350 years ago when he served as a high priest and adviser to Pharaoh Akhenaton in 1379–1362 BCE. Ahtun Re still seems like a friend to me, and I enjoy his humor and unique perspectives that have helped me grow my intuitive insights into past lifetimes.

I’d also like to thank Rebecca Shaw of Charleston Hypnosis Center in Charleston, South Carolina. Past life regression is easy and available to everyone, and Rebecca showed me just how rewarding a regression session could be. My regression sessions with Rebecca were instrumental in opening the doors to many of my past lives and continue to do so today. Rebecca’s professionalism and easygoing nature put me at ease and were major factors in making this work possible.


Foreword

Reincarnation has captured the imagination of many in the West and is gaining in popularity across a broad spectrum of ideas and thought. The concept of reincarnation has long been a belief and accepted reality in much of the East for thousands of years, all the way into the present. In the West, the idea of past lives currently receives regular mention in feature films, television, popular books, and popular music.

I believe that many of us that are attracted to certain time periods, eras, lifestyles, people, cultures, and geographic locations on the planet and are very likely having memories of past lives filter into our current reality. We may meet a particular person we have never seen or met before, and upon eye contact or briefly speaking with that person, we have a strong affinity or attraction to them. Perhaps we have known them in a past life or even in many lives and are now reconnecting with them. We may travel to a different location or city that we have never been to before and surprise ourselves in our ability to get around with no problem while others are completely lost. Perhaps we have had a life or several lives in that city before.

More and more people are accepting the possibility of reincarnation, and as the information age continues to undercut and erode old dogmas and outmoded ways of thinking, we will see this process accelerate.

In my last book, The Intuitive Warrior, I wrote about how the energy of love has begun to influence everything in my life. In this book, I will give an account of how my lives as priests developed the aspect of love I talked about in The Intuitive Warrior. I’ll describe how the variation between warrior and priest lifetimes provided the necessary balance for me to get to the point where I was able to utilize the skills of an intuitive warrior. I’ll give you my own personal lifetimes as an example of how we deal with power and how we come back again and again to perfect different aspects of ourselves until we achieve self-mastery. Once we’ve achieved mastery of a particular aspect, we then move on to another aspect and so on until we have developed mastery of all aspects of power.

If we look at the perspective of any two people who witness the same event, they will invariably have a different view. This could be due to their different vantage points at the scene, different educational levels, their ability to articulate words, their upbringing, their political or religious views, as well as a myriad of other factors. Do not get wrapped up in my views because they are only meant to inform. Any reference to living families is not meant to draw favor or to get into any kind of relationship from former lives. I do not mean to intrude, insult, or draw any unnecessary attention to living relatives of my former lives. Nor do I intend to curry favor or influence anyone in anything other than to inspire and motivate others in their own personal search for past life information.

Many of the viewpoints from my own perspective of history may not fit with particular recognized stories or with the way history has been written. History is often written and shaped by the victors or by those with an agenda that does not include promoting what the truth really is. History is occasionally retold incorrectly or completely forgotten through suppression or fabrication. But we can make progress in discerning the truth amid the fog of time in which history has been forgotten, misinterpreted, or manipulated, if we are open to a variety of sources. Memories of former lives from many different people can come forth spontaneously or through different practices and may help to uncover the true history of an era or certain events. I believe, at some point in the near future, past life insights will be commonly recognized and considered a potential part of research into historical events.

Some of the lives I’ve lived are hard to trace, and specific proof is not always readily available by current scientific standards. I’ve tried, to the best of my ability, to hold all of my information to the light of truth. I have also tried, to the best of my ability, to triangulate from different sources, which include historical evidence, experts on the subject, and actual data that has survived through time.

My desire and my intent for writing this book are to spark an interest and perhaps stimulate an awakening in many to their own past lives and how these past lives have shaped and molded them over time. I firmly believe that our entire collective past lives have shaped and guided humanity in its entirety to this current point in time. I did not write this book out of an egotistical need to show how I have lived the life of kings and great conquerors. I have used historically significant figures to draw interest and to show a pattern throughout many lifetimes that can be cross-referenced and validated for those that are skeptical. I am aware that my best efforts at convincing some will likely never be enough. My true desire is to educate humanity and further our collective advancement through a medium that is highly rewarding when approached with a desire to be informed.

So what does learning about past lives do for you personally? Think about your current life and how your experiences in this life have developed you into the person you are today. All of the challenges, frustrations, victories, joys, and moments of love and bliss are all part of who you are today. At unprompted times, some of these distant memories flash before you. A piece of your life will appear, and, if focused upon, a whole stream of memories will spill forth. Now think of the possibility that on the farthest side of your earliest memories exist even more memories. Myriad memories, in fact, and, if you could tap into these, they would reveal amazing things about who you are. Some of these memories would open up the possibility of skills and abilities that would vastly improve your life if you could tap into this treasure trove of information again.

You could possibly remember moments in history that have long been forgotten but would immeasurably improve the knowledge of humanity. This is actually starting to happen with many individuals all over the planet. You could remember an architectural technique that would allow homes to be built cheaper and last longer. Keep in mind that science still doesn’t understand how many of the very ancient structures on Earth were built with such precision, and we are still in the process of decoding the sophisticated geometrical, astronomical, and arithmetical knowledge within the architecture of those structures. The list of possible uses of past life memories is long, and your imagination is the only limit as to what they could offer you and all of humankind as well.

The benefits are potentially many and can include everything from releasing past traumas that may be influencing your current life to achieving an understanding of why you are attracted to certain people, places, or things. Knowledge of a past life can give you insight as to why you are passionate and driven in certain areas and completely averse to other aspects of life. If we can come to a realization that we have had incarnations as people from many different races, cultures, and religions, and that we have been poor, rich, noble, peasants, slaves, male, and female, would we still have the number of wars and conflicts with each other that we have at the moment?

The information in this book has taken me nearly half a century of research and introspection to come to. I’m completely convinced of reincarnation after having read dozens of books, had several past life readings, and experienced many synchronistic events that pointed me to my final conclusion that we all reincarnate. One of the aims of this book is to condense my own intensive personal research over the last several decades so that you can come to your own conclusions much faster than I did. I confidently believe that, if you don’t currently believe in reincarnation, you simply have not investigated this topic thoroughly enough yet. Therefore, you have no cogent evidence, which is unfortunate because past life knowledge is extremely enlightening in a multitude of ways. This book will give you the proof if you are remotely open to it.

In my opinion and in the opinion of many advanced thinkers throughout time, the evidence is overwhelming and irrefutably in favor of spiritual transmigration. If we were to set up a trial of reincarnation in a court of law for perjury, which is defined as the deliberate and willful giving of false, misleading, or incomplete testimony under oath, it would be found not guilty. Whether you now believe in reincarnation, are curious but on the fence, or have no belief at all, you will find this book, at a minimum, entertaining, thought-provoking, and persuasive, if not downright enlightening and transformative.


Introduction

I began to have thoughts about the possibility of past lives when I was quite young. Around age eleven, my parents allowed me to stay up late and watch the movie Patton with them on the televised Sunday night movie. George C. Scott’s Oscar-winning performance as the American general and tank commander during World War II absolutely fascinated me. I was especially intrigued when he mentioned in the movie that he’d had past lives. Patton himself immortalized his feelings about reincarnation in a poem, whose verses are truly mesmerizing.

So as through a glass and darkly,

The age long strife I see,

Where I fought in many guises,

Many names, but always me.

So forever in the future,

Shall I battle as of yore,

Dying to be born a fighter,

But to die again, once more.

Reincarnation, which literally means “to be made flesh again,” is the belief that the soul, after the death of the body, comes back to Earth in another body. My understanding is that, a new personality is developed during each life in the physical world, but the soul remains constant throughout the successive lifetimes.

As I matured, I continually came across literature and great works by many people from all times who had believed in past lives. Among them was the industrial trailblazer Henry Ford, who said, I adopted the theory of reincarnation when I was twenty-six. Genius is experience. Some think to seem that it is a gift or talent, but it is the fruit of long experience in many lives.”

Over time I found more interesting quotes from other well-known people that made me ponder the possibility that I may have had past lives as well. Powerful leaders, such as Mahatma Gandhi in India, would have me pause and meditate on quotes like, I cannot think of permanent enmity between man and man, and believing as I do in the theory of reincarnation, I live in the hope that if not in this birth, in some other birth I shall be able to hug all of humanity in friendly embrace.”

The accomplished writer Ralph Waldo Emerson similarly stated, The soul comes from without into the human body, as into a temporary abode, and it goes out of it anew as it passes into other habitations, for the soul is immortal. It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but only retire a little from sight and afterward return again. Nothing is dead; men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals—and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and well, in some strange new disguise.”

Another contemporary of Emerson and one of my favorites as a boy, after I read the classic book Walden, was Henry David Thoreau who said, “Why should we be startled by death? Life is a constant putting off of the mortal coil—coat, cuticle, flesh and bones, all old clothes.”

Oliver Wendell Holmes served as an associate justice on the US Supreme Court from 1902 to 1932. Noted for his long service, his concise and pithy opinions, and his deference to the decisions of elected legislatures, he is one of the most widely cited US Supreme Court justices in history. Emerson’s words deeply impressed him, as he said, Emerson was an idealist in the Platonic sense of the word, a spiritualist as opposed to a materialist. He believed, he says, as the wise Spenser teaches,’ that the soul makes its own body. This, of course, involves the doctrine of preexistence; a doctrine older than Spenser, older than Plato or Pythagoras, having its cradle in India, fighting its way down through Greek philosophers and Christian fathers and German professors, to our own time.”

Many different leaders within several diverse and varied fields would come to deeper insights of our world and share them with us, like Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, an Islamic Sufi poet of the thirteenth century. Rumi, who is my favorite poet of all time, said, “I died as a mineral and became a plant, I died as a plant and rose to animal, I died as animal and I was man. Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?” Along these lines, he expressed his perspective on the idea that we migrated down as souls to the lowest denominator to experience all of existence through countless incarnations. In this manner, we work our way up through first mineral form, then plant, then animal, and now as humans. But even now as humans, we are still evolving into a higher form of existence. The evolutionary process is in a constant state of flux.

Among the earliest known religious teachings in the world today are the Vedic Hindu scriptures, which state that the soul is immortal while the body is subject to birth, decay, old age, and death. An essential part of these scriptures are the Upanishads, where the term karma originated, which is intricately linked with the idea of reincarnation. In Christianity, the principle of karma is described in the saying “as you sow so shall you reap.” Karma literally means action; it is the product of one’s actions and the force that constantly determines one’s destiny and sets the stage for the next reincarnation. The cycle of death and rebirth, governed by karma, is referred to as samsara. Many religious leaders throughout time believed in reincarnation and spoke openly of it with their followers.

Siddhartha Gautama, the man who became known as Buddha (563–483 Before Current Era, BCE), offered the following on reincarnation: Samsara—the Wheel of Existence, literally the Perpetual Wandering’—is the name by which is designated the sea of life ever restlessly heaving up and down, the symbol of this continuous process of ever again and again being born, growing old, suffering, and dying. It is constantly changing from moment to moment, as lives follow continuously one upon the other through inconceivable periods of time. Of this Samsara, a single lifetime constitutes only a vanishingly tiny fraction.”

The current Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, is the leader of the Gelugpa lineage of Tibetan Buddhism. He is the fourteenth recognized reincarnation of the same soul and the inheritor of a rich tradition and culture, which started with Gendun Drup (1391–1474 Current Era, CE). This fascinating reincarnation story has been ongoing for over six hundred years! Before he dies, the Dalai Lama will meditate on his next incarnation and give the upper echelon of the Gelugpa monks clues as to what he sees through the eyes of his next incarnated self as a two- or three-year-old. After his death, the monks will start their own meditation on the location of the Dalai Lama’s next incarnation, and then they will faithfully search for him. The monks correlate where he is located through previous clues and their own meditations over a two-to-three-year period. They will then travel to the general location and narrow down the potential children through a purposefully designed process of tests to find the true successor.

The monks then present several artifacts from the previous Dalai Lama’s life to the children in question, such as an old worn toy that he had enjoyed, but they will also present a new and shiny one. The right child picks his previous toy and other artifacts such as prayer beads, staffs, and so on for a count of around ten different objects or questions. Satisfied, they ask for the child from the honored parents, and he is brought up as the new incarnation of the Dalai Lama. So far, this has always happened in Tibet, but the current Dalai Lama said that he would probably not reincarnate in what is now China and that he might even come back as a woman, “but a beautiful one!” he said jokingly.

The Dalai Lama wrote, in the preface of the book The Case for Reincarnation by Joe Fisher, that “reincarnation is not an exclusively Hindu or Buddhist concept, but it is part of the history of human origin. It is proof of the mind stream’s capacity to retain knowledge of physical and mental activities. It is related to the theory of interdependent origination and to the law of cause and effect.”

In all three Abrahamic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, there are several references to reincarnation. Josephus, the best-known Jewish historian from the time of Jesus, said that “all pure and holy spirits live on in heavenly places, and in course of time they are again sent down to inhabit righteous bodies.” Other spiritual insights would follow from masters like Yeshua, who is commonly referred to as Jesus. In the account of John 3:3, he said, “I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again.” In the Pistis Sophia, which is part of the Gnostic Gospels, Yeshua is quoted as saying that “souls are poured from one into another of different kinds of bodies of the world.”

While fasting and in deep meditation in a mountain cave outside of Mecca, an area in present-day Saudi Arabia, the prophet Muhammad received messages from Allah through his messenger Archangel Gabriel. In the Holy Qur’an, we find the verses, And Allah hath caused you to spring forth from the Earth like a plant; Hereafter will He turn you back into it again, and bring you forth anew” and “God generates beings, and sends them back over and over again, till they return to Him.”

Scientific proof of reincarnation is also coming from many different sources. I have read many books by Dr. Ian Stevenson (October 31, 1918–February 8, 2007), who was the former head of the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Virginia. Before he passed, he was the director of the Division of Personality Studies at the University of Virginia and, over forty years, compiled several thousand cases of reincarnation from all over the world. In his book Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation, he gives very credible accounts of children who remembered past lives that he had personally researched.

It is known that the Egyptians believed in reincarnation or the transmigration of the soul from body to body. This was one of the main reasons why they embalmed and preserved the body, so that it could journey along with “Ka,” an animating force that was believed to be an energetic counterpart of the body, the equivalent to what we understand as the soul. This establishes the concept of reincarnation back to the ancient Egyptian religion in 3750 BCE, but many think the concept dates back even further.

A contemporary of Siddhartha Gautama was the Greek philosopher and mathematician Pythagoras, who taught that the soul is immortal and merely residing in the body, surviving its physical death. His teachings also held that the soul goes through a series of rebirths during which the soul rests between every death and rebirth, where it is further purified in the underworld. The purpose of this continuous process is for the soul to evolve to the point where it can eventually leave the transmigration or reincarnation cycle.

Countless philosophers have discussed the idea of reincarnation such as Socrates (469–399 BCE), who is one of the most acknowledged philosophers of all time. He stated that he was confident that there truly is such a thing as living again, that the living spring from the dead, and that the souls of the dead are in existence.”

Plato (427–347 BCE), another renowned Greek philosopher who was taught by Socrates and in turn taught Aristotle, shared similar views as Pythagoras about the eternal nature of the soul of man in that it is preexistent and wholly spiritual.

The early Christian philosopher Origen (185–254 CE), is considered one of the most prominent of all of the church fathers. In his Contra Celsum, he states, “A soul enters into a body according to its former actions and then changes body.”

The Latin philosopher Saint Augustine (354–430 CE) was greatly influenced by neo-Platonism, which revolves around the idea of a single supreme being or source of goodness from which all other things in the universe descend. Neo-Platonists support the idea of a world soul, or anima mundi, which bridges the divide between the realm of forms and the realm of intangible existence. Saint Augustine is deemed one of the most important figures in the development of Western Christianity, and in the Contra Academicos, he said, The message of Plato’s reincarnation is the purest and most luminous of all philosophy.”

Truth has a wonderful way of coming back full circle into the forefront of the collective consciousness. The knowledge of reincarnation and the self-realization that it initiates have been lost or suppressed for centuries in many cultures and religions, but now humanity’s awareness is inexorably on its way to setting things straight. You may decide for yourself, as I did over time, that reincarnation is part of who and what we are as spiritual beings having a human experience over many lifetimes.

My thoughts on reincarnation and how we can benefit from our personal studies of past lives are multifaceted. Pulling in the added wisdom and experiences from another lifetime could help expand your horizon in many different ways. You might be able to figure out why you are actually here in this particular life and what you may need to do in order to progress and be more fulfilled. Learning what you have done wrong in past lives could motivate you to not repeat those mistakes in this life.

The awareness of past lives and my connection to them in this life have been part of my own spiritual awakening, a process of awakening that I believe everyone will eventually encounter as they progress on the spiritual path. To deny or suppress this integral part of spiritual ascension of consciousness is to impede or negate one’s own right as a soul in passage through the human experience. It is with this concept of our rights as soul entities that I relate my own personal experiences in the hope that it will enhance or awaken your own personal spiritual development and intuition.

As Edgar Cayce wrote, “In time, we who are trapped in the cycle of birth and rebirth can once again come to know our original state and purpose, and regain our celestial birthright as a companion to God. In time, we can again come to realize that the conditions in our current life are the result of our free actions and choices from past lives.”


I

King Yudhisthira during the Time When the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita Were Written, 3500 BCE

Even this is my vow steadily pursued, that I never give up a person that is terrified, nor one that is devoted to me, nor one that seeks my protection, saying that he is destitute, nor one that is afflicted, nor one that has come to me, nor one that is weak in protecting oneself, nor one that is solicitous of life. I shall never give up such a one till my own life is at an end.

—King Yudhisthira

The setting was in ancient India in the sumptuous palace of the Pandava clan in the Northern city of Hastinapur. The malice of the rival Kaurava clan was displayed as they took advantage of the eldest clan member King Yudhisthira, who was involved in a deceitful game of dice. The game of dice was an ancient game that determined the direction a person’s life was taking. If a person had an honorable and virtuous life, then that would reflect in the dice or cards. But if the dice were loaded, as was the case for this game, it wouldn’t matter how virtuous or deserving one was. Yudhisthira, being a man of dharma, or in accord with cosmic law and order, had never lost at dice before. The materialistic Duryodhana of the Kaurava clan was using specifically cursed dice to foil and take advantage of the Pandavas.

Yudhisthira, thus, lost his kingdom, all his brothers, himself, and even the Pandavas’ common wife Draupadi as he gambled on. The Kauravas then humiliated the Pandavas and even tried to publicly disrobe Draupadi, who could only be saved by their enlightened cousin Krishna. Dhritarashtra, who was the patriarch of the Kaurava clan, realized that the game had gone too far, and, in order to prevent his son from being cursed by Draupadi, he begged him to nullify the gambling score, but Duryodhana only agreed to one more game.

The loser would have to go into the wilderness, where he would have to stay twelve years in exile followed by one year hidden in disguise. If the other party should discover him during that year, he would forever forfeit all he had lost for the previous twelve years. As the dice were still loaded, Yudhisthira lost this game as well, and the Pandavas were driven into exile. Perhaps this is why I’ve never had a desire to gamble in my current lifetime! In fact, I have found no evidence of gambling throughout all the many lives I’ve researched. Some hard-won lessons last, not only for a lifetime, but also throughout eternity.

The story unfolds in the great literary work called the Mahabharata, the longest epic poem in the world and described as the longest poem ever written. About 1.8 million words in total, The Mahabharata is roughly ten times the length of the Iliad and the Odyssey combined, or about four times the length of the next greatest Indian epic, the Ramayana. The importance of the Mahabharata to world civilization has been compared to that of the Bible, the works of Shakespeare, the works of Homer, Greek drama, or the Qur’an.

Krishna, an incarnation of the godhead, was a youthful prince and the cousin of both clans, but he was a friend and adviser to the Pandavas. Krishna was the divine incarnation in physical form of the supreme deity of Hinduism, Vishnu. He served as my brother Arjuna’s mentor and later as his charioteer in the great war against the Kauravas. Within the greater work of the Mahabharata is the Bhagavad Gita, which focuses on the thoughts of Arjuna and his discussion with Krishna before the great battle of Kurukshetra. One of the great gifts for humanity to be derived from the story in the Bhagavad Gita are the many life lessons and philosophical insights into human behavior that are interwoven within the greater story.

I’ve personally found, while reading the Mahabharata, that it is not just another tale of endless human drama, but it is filled with a treasure trove of political wisdom, philosophical insights, and religious beatitudes, and it is an overall captivating work of literary art.

In an earlier account, it is said that, prior to the Kurukshetra War, the two heroes meet the god Vishnu after flying across oceans in Krishna’s chariot. Krishna and Arjuna had both been rishis or wise sages together in a previous lifetime. Krishna told Arjuna that they had been brought together again to restore dharma on Earth. Vishnu then spoke and said that Krishna represented wisdom and Arjuna was action. One without the other was useless. Wisdom was useless without action, and action was useless without wisdom. You can only succeed in a battle when both are utilized in synergy.

Easily the most dramatic figure of the entire Mahabharata, Krishna was considered the supreme personality of the godhead himself, descended to Earth in human form to reestablish his devotees as caretakers of Earth and teach the practice of dharma. These godlike men would incarnate periodically throughout the ages in different cultures to help advance mankind.

Dharma is regarded as natural law and is a concept of central importance in Indian philosophy and religion. It is a concept that has run throughout every religion throughout time. As well as referring to law in the universal or abstract sense, dharma designates the behaviors considered necessary for the maintenance of the natural order of things. Therefore dharma may encompass ideas such as duty, vocation, religion, and everything that is considered correct, proper, or decent behavior.

The idea of dharma as duty or propriety derives from an idea found in India’s ancient legal and religious texts that there is a divinely instituted natural order of things. Justice, social harmony, and human happiness require that human beings discern and live in a manner appropriate to the requirements of that order. For Krishna, there cannot be dharma without the spirit of generosity, because laws and rules are worthless without genuine love.

Once exiled to the forests, the five brothers of the Pandava clan are assisted throughout the story by various gods, sages, and Brahmins, including the great sage Krishna. During this journey, after they have lost everything, they turn within themselves for answers and learn many lessons of spiritual significance in the secluded and beautiful forests. This contrasts markedly with the Kaurava clan that is materialistic and has no dharma in the pursuit of outer pleasure and gratification. This has parallels throughout time.

Who were the five Pandava brothers and what have been their incarnations throughout time? As the eldest brother, I was Yudhisthira. The strong and powerful Bhima would be the future incarnations of Hercules and more recently General Patton. Arjuna would be the future incarnation of Alexander the Great. The twin brothers Nakula and Sahadeva are currently alive as motivational speakers and successful authors of self-help books. They have even appeared on stage together in a television special featuring their work as new age spiritual masters.

The Pandavas managed to remain undetected for the entire thirteen years and then set out to claim their rightful kingdom. They tried to find a peaceful and diplomatic way to get this accomplished, and Krishna’s elder brother Balarama advised the Pandavas to send an emissary to get the support of the elders of the family. The Kauravas were brought a message saying, “Let us avoid armed conflict as much as possible. Only that which is accrued in peace is worthwhile. Out of war, nothing but wrong can issue.”

While the emissary was in the Kaurava court, the Pandavas wisely began with war preparations. They realized that Duryodhana would probably not be willing to be true to his word after he had cheated and conspired against them before. They also sent messages requesting assistance to a number of neighboring kingdoms. Their ambassador of peace was insulted and turned away by Duryodhana, who was absolutely intent on war, defying the counsel of the elders like Bhishma, who had agreed with the reasoning behind the Pandavas’ proposal. After several failed attempts at peace, war seemed inevitable.

As a last attempt, Krishna traveled to the capital city of Hastinapur to persuade the Kauravas to embark upon a peaceful path with him, but, at the formal presentation of the peace proposal by Krishna at the court of Hastinapur, his peace proposals were ignored, and Duryodhana publicly ordered his soldiers to arrest Krishna. Krishna laughed and displayed his divine form, radiating intense light. The soldiers then refused to arrest Krishna and did not stand in his way as he left.

The Kurukshetra War lasted only eighteen days, eighteen conch shells were blown before the battle, the text has eighteen chapters, and eighteen groups of soldiers were involved, eleven on the side of the Kauravas and seven on the side of the Pandavas. The cross total of eighteen is nine, which in numerology is a completion number and could be a clue to this having been the end of one age and the start of another. Many sages have said that the end of the Kurukshetra War was the start of the fourth age or Kali Yuga. The Kali Yuga is supposedly the darkest age for humanity and is ended with a return to a golden age. I believe we are just entering the faint edges of a new golden age in our present day.

Kurukshetra was purposefully chosen as the battleground, because, if a sin was committed on this holy land, it was forgiven on account of the sanctity of the land. A number of ancient kingdoms would participate as allies of the rival groups, and overall each army consisted of several divisions of which the Kauravas had eleven while the Pandavas controlled seven.

Each division was under a different general, apart from the commander-in-chief, who was the head of each respective army. A division included 21,870 chariots and chariot riders, 21,870 elephants and riders, 65,610 horses and riders, and 109,350 foot soldiers, for a ratio of 1:1:3:5. The combined number of warriors and soldiers in both armies was approximately four million.

Let me give you an idea of the magnitude of the number of combatants involved. If you took all of the two largest military forces in the world, China and the United States, in the period of January 2014 and combined their total numbers, it would still be several hundred thousand shy. That is all the army, navy, air force, and marine personnel of both sides; if you put them all on one battlefield, plus another three hundred thousand allies, you would finally reach the four million of the Pandavas and Kauravas.

Because the Pandava army was smaller than that of the Kauravas, it relied on strategy and surprise. At various times during the Kurukshetra War, the supreme commanders of both armies ordered special formations. Each formation had specific defensive or offensive purposes as well as specific strengths and weaknesses. These battle formations had been developed on Atlantis after thousands of years of tactical warfare. Later in this chapter, I will go into more detail about the significance of the Atlantean history in regard to the events in India.

Today we know only the names of the formations and can only guess what they were exactly. My memories are that they were designed for large numbers of forces fighting in unison and displayed the shape or the characteristics of the different animals or other items they were named after. At times, it was common for animals to join forces with men to fight wars. We all know about the use of elephants and horses in warfare, but, in the course of history, almost every species of animal has become involved in some way.

The Mahabharata lists the following battle formations: heron formation, crocodile formation, tortoise or turtle formation, trident formation, wheel or discus formation, lotus formation, eagle formation, ocean formation, galaxy formation, diamond or thunderbolt formation, box or cart formation, demon formation, divine formation, needle formation, horned formation, crescent or curved blade formation, and garland formation.

Julius Caesar also mentions using the turtle formation in his commentaries, which was formed by interlocking shields on the top and along the sides. It was a defensive move inspired by the hard shell of the turtle, which protects the animals’ soft inner tissue from predators, hence the name. The Korean navy also used “turtle ships” shaped like the shell of a turtle effectively from the fifteenth through the nineteenth centuries CE.

During the Kurukshetra War, the weapons used included bows and arrows, which were the weapons of choice for Arjuna and Bhishma; the mace, chosen by Bhima and Duryodhana; and the sword and the spear chosen by Yudhisthira. I have chosen the spear or lance in many lifetimes as a weapon of choice. The twins Nakula and Sahadeva were both skilled swordsmen.

Before the battle began, my brother Arjuna had misgivings on waging war and confided his deep-seated hesitations to his chariot driver, Krishna. From their conversations within the greater work of the Mahabharata is the more famous and recognizable Bhagavad Gita. Within this particular work are described the reasons for the Kurukshetra War and the duty and honor that Arjuna would be recognized for by having fought. Krishna explains that, without the war, the barbaric actions of the Kauravas would throw the world into deeper levels of darkness that would take even more effort to overcome in future ages. This has echoes throughout history with the most recent being Nazi Germany’s Third Reich.

The Kurukshetra War was characterized by numerous individual combats, as well as mass raids against entire enemy divisions. The victor or the vanquished on each day was determined, not by any territories gained, but by the number killed. This was a war to the death. The survivor would be the victor. If the text is taken to be chronologically accurate, this was one of the bloodiest wars in the history of mankind. Only a few warriors from each side would remain, meaning that close to four million combatants were killed in only eighteen days.

Indications are that many of the surrounding cities and regions of India were also involved; my estimation is that the casualty rate could have easily been as high as several million people there as well. We can tell, through recent archaeology, that more than one million people could have inhabited cities in India’s ancient past. If we look at the population today, throughout the entire region, it would be well over this figure. So it is not impossible to believe that, at one time, this area was able to support these numbers as it does today.

I believe that the high number of casualties in the surrounding regions is due to the fact that their cities were attacked with nuclear weapons or, at least, something similar. I’m fully aware of the implications of this statement, and I will present substantial evidence supporting this claim. But first I want to cover more of the actual accounts in the texts. Try to keep an open mind when considering that our very distant ancestors would not have used the same terms for advanced technology that we use today, simply because we invented the terms we currently use—but maybe we were not the first to invent these technologies.

For instance, one account on the third day tells us that Bhishma arranged the Kaurava forces in the formation of an eagle with himself leading from the front, while Duryodhana’s forces protected the rear. Bhishma wanted to be sure to avoid any mishap. The Pandavas countered this by using the crescent formation with Bhima and Arjuna at the head of the right and the left wings, respectively. The Kauravas concentrated their attack on Arjuna’s position, whose chariot was soon covered with arrows and javelins. Arjuna, with amazing skill, built a fortification around his chariot with an unending stream of arrows from his bow. This sounds like a description of some type of force field technology that is only science fiction today, but who knows what we may come up with in the future or what is already being developed in secret?

Another fantastic story with indications of high technology occurs on the fourteenth day of the war when Ghatotkacha was summoned by Bhima to fight on the Pandava side. Invoking his magical powers, he wrought great havoc in the Kaurava army. In particular, after the battle continued on past sunset, his powers were most effective. Ghatotkacha had received the ultimate boon from Krishna that nobody in all the worlds could match his magical capabilities, except Krishna himself. So it seems that the text is referring to the use of aircraft with advanced weaponry and night-vision capability because apparently it worked better at night.

At one point in the battle, the Kaurava leader Duryodhana appealed to his best fighter, Karna, to kill Ghatotkacha as the whole Kaurava army was coming close to annihilation due to his ceaseless strikes from the air. Karna possessed a divine weapon called Indrastra, granted by the god Indra. It could be used only once, and Karna had been saving it for his archenemy Arjuna, the best Pandava fighter.

But unable to refuse Duryodhana, Karna used the Indrastra against Ghatotkacha and killed him. Ghatotkacha increased in size and fell dead on the Kaurava army, killing thousands of them. This is considered to be the turning point of the war. After his death, the Pandava counselor Krishna smiled as he considered the war to have been won for the Pandavas now that Karna no longer had a divine weapon to use in fighting Arjuna.

Another indicator of remaining Atlantean technology was that the craft was also able to singlehandedly destroy so much of the Kaurava army. Karna fired what appears to be one of the last remaining surface-to-air missiles. When Ghatotkacha’s craft crashed down, it increased in size and killed thousands. It appears to have contained some type of advanced weaponry that had a tremendous blast radius when it was destroyed.

The references in the Mahabharata to technologically advanced flying chariots are absolutely abundant. They are referred to as the vimanas, and they are also mentioned throughout the Vedic epic Ramayana, which predates the Mahabharata by thousands of years. There it reads, “The Pushpaka chariot that resembles the sun and belongs to my brother was brought by the powerful Ravan; that aerial and excellent chariot going everywhere at will…that chariot resembling a bright cloud in the sky…and the king [Rama] got in, and the excellent chariot at the command of the Raghira rose up into the higher atmosphere.”

Adding up all the different ancient sources, there were, at least, four different types of vimanas, some of which were said to be saucer-shaped and others like long cigar-shaped cylinders. They were also described as double-decked, circular, cylindrical aircraft with portholes and a dome. They flew with the “speed of the wind” and gave forth a “melodious sound.” Ancient Indian texts on vimanas are so numerous that it would take several books to relate what they all have to say. The Vaimanika Shastra, the “treatise on vimanas,” has eight chapters with diagrams describing the operation of vimanas, including information on the steering, precautions for long flights, protection of the airships from storms and lightning, and how to switch the drive from a free energy source, which sounds like “antigravity,” to “solar energy.” It outlines the features of three types of aircraft, including apparatuses that could neither catch on fire nor break. It also mentions thirty-one essential parts of these vehicles and sixteen light- and heat-absorbing materials from which they were constructed.

The Vedas describe the vimanas as the flying chariots of the gods that they used to transport themselves not only around the skies but also to other planets. The word airplane is commonplace in Vedic literature, as you can see in the following passage from the Yajur Veda where it says, “O royal skilled engineer, construct sea-boats, propelled on water by our experts, and airplanes, moving and flying upward, after the clouds that reside in the midregion, that fly as the boats move on the sea, that fly high over and below the watery clouds. Be thou, thereby, prosperous in this world created by the Omnipresent God, and flier in both air and lightning.”

In the Sanskrit Samarangana Sutradhara, it is written, “Strong and durable must the body of the vimana be made, like a great flying bird of light material. Inside one must put the mercury engine with its iron heating apparatus underneath. By means of the power latent in the mercury, which sets the driving whirlwind in motion, a man sitting inside may travel a great distance in the sky. The movements of the vimana are such that it can vertically ascend and descend, movement could be accomplished by slanting forward and backward. With the help of the machines human beings can fly in the air and heavenly beings can come down to Earth.”

Not far from India, in the Euphrates Valley, a Jewish ethnologist, Yonah ibn Aharon, who was conversant with all the basic dialects upon which most languages of eastern Eurasia are founded and who produced the first and only Basrai-Aramaic dictionary, discovered two remarkable documents. The oldest document is Babylonian and is believed to be seven thousand years old, forming a part of the Hakaltha, the “holy laws,” and containing a passage saying, “The privilege of operating a flying machine is great. The knowledge of flight is among the most ancient of our heritages, a gift from Those Upon High. We received it from them as a means of saving many lives.”

A little more than ten years ago, the Chinese discovered some Sanskrit documents in Lhasa, Tibet, and sent them to the University of Chandrigarh in Punjab, India, to be translated. There Dr. Ruth Reyna of the university found out that the documents seemed to contain directions for building interstellar spaceships. Their method of propulsion, she said, was “anti-gravitational” and was based upon a system analogous to that of laghima, a mysterious power of the ego existing in man’s physiological makeup, “a centrifugal force strong enough to counteract all gravitational pull.” According to Hindu yogis, it is this laghima that enables a person to levitate.

Dr. Reyna said that on board these machines, which were called astras by the text, the ancient Indians could have sent a detachment of men onto any planet, according to the document, which is thought to be thousands of years old. The manuscripts apparently also revealed the secret of antima, which is the art of becoming invisible, and garima, the ability to “become as heavy as a mountain of lead.”

Indian scientists did not take the texts very seriously, but then they became more positive about their value when the Chinese announced that they were looking into utilizing certain parts of the data for their space program. This was one of the first instances of a government admitting to researching antigravity technology. Today, the Chinese have sent astronauts into space and safely landed them and are now close to sending astronauts to the moon. Have they been utilizing some of the ancient information in their rapid mastery of space?

The manuscripts did not explicitly say that interplanetary travel was ever made, but did mention a planned trip to the moon, though it is not clear whether this trip was actually carried out. However, the Ramayana does contain a highly detailed story of a trip to the moon in a vimana, or astra, and in fact details a battle on the moon with an airship of the Asvin. This is but a small bit of recent evidence of antigravity and aviation technology used in ancient history. Many very accomplished archaeologists, of whom Klaus Dona is a wonderful example, discovered stunning artifacts all over the world that account for a high degree of advancement, sometimes surpassing our current manufacturing abilities, and also include models of many different types of aircraft.

To really understand this ancient technology, we must go much further back in time. The Rama Empire of northern India and Pakistan developed at least fifteen thousand years ago on the Indian subcontinent and was a nation of many large, sophisticated cities, many of which are still to be found in the deserts of that area. Rama existed parallel to the Atlantean civilization, which was located in the Atlantic Ocean and ruled by “enlightened priest-kings” for thousands of years, who governed the different cities of this now sunken continent. The recent findings of a team of scientists are consistent with the theory that an extraterrestrial body impacted Earth in that area approximately 12,900 years ago.

My own past life memories reach back to Atlantis and even farther to the ancient continent of Lemuria in the Pacific Ocean. There I remember being a priest-king when humanity was still mostly spiritual and when there were no wars. Lemurian priest-kings were androgens or hermaphrodites, meaning they embodied both genders simultaneously. The shift away from the androgynous human was the beginning of the shift away from the archetypal priest-king to the warrior-king, as the balance of masculine and feminine was harder to maintain in a separated body. This conflict, unless balanced internally, was the beginning of external conflict and its resolution through war.

In her book The Camino, Shirley MacLaine describes a process that she recalled from a past life where she was a Lemurian androgen that split its male and female bodies in a sacred ceremony in Atlantis. I was one of the scientist priests involved in that event. During several of my Atlantean incarnations, I was a priest-king on the island of Poseidon and later incarnated as scientist-priests, and, toward the end of Atlantis’s days, I reincarnated as a warrior-king. Science and spirituality were inseparable in the earlier part of Atlantis’s long history.

When the separation between the two started, the wars began. In one lifetime as a scientist-priest, I was in charge of what were called the fire crystals. These crystals had an innate intelligence and were used to power cities and run healing devices. In that lifetime, I was approached by the militaristic faction of Atlantis and was asked to use the fire crystal technology for destructive purposes. I refused, but I knew that they would eventually get control of the fire crystals and cause cataclysmic events that would destroy Atlantis, which they did.

Because the crystals had a consciousness of their own, they could not long tolerate the negativity they were being used for. Eventually a destructive force was initiated by the misappropriation of the power of the fire crystals that caused several natural disasters on the continent of Atlantis. The complete sinking of the remaining major islands as the fire crystal technologies were continually abused and ultimately followed a breaking up of the continent into several islands. I had made a vow in that lifetime that I would insert myself into future lifetimes to help mitigate the destructiveness of war. As you can tell, humanity’s warlike tendencies provided the ground for many more conflicts to come where we would experience and learn much more about the possibilities and effects of warfare.

My own memories of the vimanas during my lifetime as Yudhisthira are that they were basically leftovers from a golden age several thousand years before when India was a colony of Atlantis. The epic Ramayana dates from this earlier time frame and chronicles a war with the Atlaneans when India rebelled against their oppressive rule. Toward the later days of Atlantis’s history, it had been bent on tyrannical world domination by force. In that distant time, more than twelve thousand years ago, the vimanas were far larger and more numerous than they were during my lifetime as Yudhisthira.

Of the few remaining and workable airplanes, we had a few options available to us during the time frame of the Mahabharata. Most of the craft remaining were one- or two-seat models. There were only a couple of craft remaining that could hold several people for transportation purposes. The parts and fuel were an issue for some of the models, and we had to constantly take parts from other models to keep fewer and fewer up and running.

Many of the vimanas were fueled by a solid propellant, whereas the more advanced ones were antigravity vehicles, which only the pilots with the most advanced psychic abilities could run. You literally ran them with your mind, and rarely were they used for combat because there were usually no weapons mounted on these vehicles, making them worthy only for transportation or as observation platforms. If your thought processes were not correct or not of an altruistic intent, the craft would not work.

An added benefit of the thought-controlled vimanas was they also enhanced and heightened your metaphysical capabilities. Among the feats that could be accomplished when inside a vimana was the ability to remotely influence other aircraft. Other powers that would manifest over time and with training were the abilities to see into other aircraft via remote viewing or to make your own craft invisible.

Very skilled pilots could even make jumps instantaneously from one location to another. Krishna was one of the few pilots that had this ability. His vimana was exceptional because, while it was moved by thought, it could also utilize weapon systems. To operate such a craft, you had to be a master of the physical as well as the nonphysical worlds simultaneously, because you had to maintain a certain state of mind to run the vehicles. If you got excited or angry, the vehicle would not fly. It would just hover and stand still unless you were relaxed and calm.

The movie Firefox featured Clint Eastwood as an American pilot who was inserted into Soviet Russia to steal an advanced aircraft. The aircraft was invisible to radar and the weapon system was controlled by thought. Believed to be science fiction at the time of its release in 1982, it is virtually a recognized reality more than thirty years later.

I remember that the central control mechanism of the mind-regulated vehicle was located under the driver’s seat; you just sat down over it and communicated and guided it with your thoughts. In the fueled vehicles, you had a joystick, but all of the airplanes could also be controlled with body movements. If you tilted your body a certain way, you could maneuver the aircraft because the gyroscope mechanism under the seat could read your body movements. The maneuvering capability with the joystick and gyro control made the vimana extremely quick in turns, flips, and twists.

Two people would often operate the planes with weapon pods, but it was not absolutely necessary to have a weapons controller as the pilot could also fire the missiles. Inside a vimana you would not experience any gravitational force, even if you were flying upside down or doing rapid spins. You would not be pulled or pushed a certain way, and, other than some dizziness, if you didn’t focus your eyes correctly, there were no ill effects to the occupants.

The metal of some of the more advanced aircraft would change shape according to your thoughts. Watching or remembering The Terminator science fiction movie series can help in deriving a visual image of what I’m trying to relate. In the second movie, the Terminator robot could shape shift its liquid metal body into whatever form it needed to accomplish its mission. The aircraft I learned to fly would change shape to fit whatever mission I needed to fly. It could even change shape during flight. The metal was silver colored but could change to green if I flew close to Earth where green trees were located so that it could blend in. It could also turn blue to match the sky so that those on the ground could not see it. Because it used a free energy source, no spent fuel trails were visible.

During a long period in the jungle during our thirteen-year seclusion, we learned how to use the advanced systems that were secreted in caves. The advanced priests, or rishis as they were then known, lived deep within the seclusion of the jungle. They trained us in the correct techniques of mental and physical self-control that was necessary to interact with the advanced technology.

Apart from “blazing missiles,” the Mahabharata records the use of other deadly weapons that appear to be powerful lasers. “Indra’s Dart” operated via a circular “reflector.” When switched on, it produced a “shaft of light” that, when focused on any target, immediately “consumed it with its power.”

References to flying vimanas can be found in forty-one places in the Mahabharata. Of these, the air attack of the Asura king Salva on Krishna’s capital Dwaraka deserves special notice. Salva had an aerial flying machine known as Saubha-pura in which he came to attack Dwaraka. He began to shower hail and missiles from the sky. As Krishna chased him, he went near the sea and landed in the high seas. Then he came back again with his flying machine and gave a tough fight to Krishna staying about one krosa, approximately four thousand feet, above ground level.

In one particular exchange, Krishna is pursuing Salva in the sky, and Salva’s vimana is made invisible in some way. Undeterred, Krishna immediately fires off a special weapon, described by him saying, “I quickly laid on an arrow, which killed by seeking out sound.” This powerful weapon hit Salva’s craft in the middle, so that it broke into pieces and fell into the sea. This vivid description of an air attack between flying vehicles occurs in the Bhagavad Gita also.

Other passages speak of things hauntingly similar to nuclear weapons carried on the vimana: “Gurkha, flying a swift and powerful vimana, hurled a single projectile charged with all the power of the universe. An incandescent column of smoke and flame as bright as ten thousand suns rose in its entire splendor…it was an unknown weapon, an iron thunderbolt, and a gigantic messenger of death, which reduced to ashes. The entire race of the Vrishnis and the Andhakas…the corpses were so burned as to be unrecognizable. Their hair and nails fell out; pottery broke without apparent cause, and the birds turned white. After a few hours, all foodstuffs were infected. To escape from this fire, the soldiers threw themselves in streams to wash themselves and their equipment.”

This wash down with water is a standard procedure today to decontaminate personnel and equipment of radioactive fallout. One of my jobs as a sailor in the US Navy was to set up stations to decontaminate personnel and equipment with special detergents and water. I was also responsible for putting on protective clothing and monitoring and measuring the radioisotopes before and after decontamination with special Geiger counters.

“Dense arrows of flame, like a great shower, issued forth upon creation, encompassing the enemy…a thick gloom swiftly settled upon the Pandava hosts. All points of the compass were lost in darkness. Fierce wind began to blow upward, showering dust and gravel. Birds croaked madly…the very elements seemed disturbed. The ground shook, scorched by the terrible violent heat of this weapon. Elephants burst into flame and ran to and fro in a frenzy…over a vast area, other animals crumpled to the ground and died. From all points of the compass, the arrows of flame rained continuously and fiercely.”

Recent excavations at Mohenjo-Daro in northern India add credibility to the notion of atomic weapons use, as they revealed that this city had been completely destroyed quite unexpectedly. There were no traces of natural disasters or wars in that area. Mohenjo-Daro was a well-planned city laid out on a grid with a plumbing system superior to those used in Pakistan and India today. They found the streets littered with “black lumps of glass.”

In 1979, scientists David Davenport and Ettore Vincenti published a major clue to the Mohenjo-Daro mystery. The thousands of black lumps intrigued them, and when they analyzed them, they turned out to be fragments of pottery fused together by extreme heat. According to the scientists’ updated calculations, the clay vessels had been exposed to a blast of heat measuring between 1,400 and 1,600 degrees centigrade. Davenport and Vincenti then studied the site of Mohenjo-Daro in some depth and pinpointed three distinct waves of devastation, which had spread out up to one mile from the epicenter of the explosion.

The scientists put forward a theory saying the ruins had all the marks of a nuclear explosion as they found big stratums of clay and green glass. Similar stratums of green glass could also be found in the Nevada deserts after every nuclear explosion test.

When the excavations of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro reached the street level, they discovered skeletons scattered across the cities. Many were holding hands and were sprawled in the streets as if some instant, horrible doom had taken place. People were just lying unburied in the streets of the city. These skeletons have been found to be at least thousands of years old by traditional archaeological standards. What could have caused such a thing? Why did the bodies not decay or get eaten by wild animals? There are no apparent indications of physically violent deaths like in combat, but these skeletons are among the most radioactive ever found, on par with those at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Other cities have been found in northern India as well that show signs of explosions of great magnitude.

One such city found between the Ganges and the mountains of Rajmahal also seems to have been subjected to intense heat. Huge masses of walls and foundations of the ancient city are fused together, literally vitrified, and since there is no indication of a volcanic eruption at Mohenjo-Daro or at the other cities, the intense heat to melt clay vessels can only be explained by an atomic blast or some other unknown weapon. These cities were wiped out entirely.

While the skeletons have been carbon dated to 2500 BCE, we must keep in mind that carbon dating is based on measuring the amount of radiation remaining after it decays or is lost over time. When atomic explosions are involved, massive amounts of radiation are left over. This makes highly radioactive sites seem much younger than they actually are.

Another example in the area of Rajasthan, India, features an area of three square miles covered in radioactive ash. Researchers began to test the area after locals were experiencing a high rate of birth defects and cancer. The levels of radiation they found were so high that Indian officials quarantined the entire area.

Archaeologists have since found evidence of an ancient city that, between 12000 and 8000 BCE, could have supported approximately half a million people. This fits in with my idea that the Ramayana also depicts a nuclear war with Atlantis before the cataclysmic sinking of that continent and the wiping out of Rama with atomic weapons. Only at some point after this nuclear war did the world collapse into what mainstream scholars see as the final period of the Stone Age. Archaeological evidence suggests that atomic explosions during the war between the Atlanteans and the Ramans destroyed a lot of their progress, which was later followed by another setback after the Kurukshetra War.

In the years that followed the war, Dhritarashtra, his queen, Gandhari, and Kunti, the mother of the Pandavas, lived a life of asceticism in a forest retreat and died with yogic calm in a forest fire. Krishna departed from Earth thirty-six years after the war. A hunter, who mistook him for a deer, shot him in his one vulnerable spot, his foot. Yudhisthira had been crowned king of Hastinapur at the end of the war and renounced the throne after ruling for thirty-six years, passing the crown on to Arjuna’s grandson Parikshit.

When they learned of Krishna’s departure, the Pandavas believed it was time for them to also leave this world, so they embarked upon the “Great Journey,” which involved walking north toward the polar mountain that is toward the heavenly worlds, until one’s body dropped dead. Yudhisthira thus left for the Himalayas with Draupadi and his brothers in what was to be their last journey.

One by one Draupadi and the younger Pandavas died along the way until Yudhisthira was left alone with a dog that had followed him all the way. Yudhisthira made it to the gate of heaven and there refused the order to drive the dog back, at which point the dog was revealed to be an incarnate form of the god Dharma who was Yudhisthira’s actual physical father and who was there to test Yudhisthira’s virtue.

Once in heaven, Yudhisthira faced one final test of his virtue, when he was shown only the Dhritarashtra clan in heaven and told that his brothers were in hell. He insisted on joining his brothers in hell, if that were the case. It was then revealed that they really were in heaven and that this illusion had been one final test for him.

I have no memories of this final part of the story and believe it to be an artistic flourish. A hero’s ascension is a common theme in legends and religious stories. Ascension is a possibility for everyone, however. The real stories of ascension are often not so colorful and obvious as we would like to believe.

In 1815 the British army used a secret weapon called “rockets” in the Battle of Waterloo against the French army of Napoleon. They had learned firsthand of these terrible weapons while fighting in India. The Indians had used the weapons with great success against the British, who didn’t quite understand them and were not nearly as effective. Where did the Indians learn their rocket technology?

Julius Robert Oppenheimer (April 22, 1904–February 18, 1967) was an American theoretical physicist and professor of physics at the University of California, Berkeley. He is often called the “father of the atomic bomb” for his role in the Manhattan Project, the World War II project that developed the first nuclear weapons. The first atomic bomb was detonated on July 16, 1945, in the Trinity test in New Mexico. Oppenheimer remarked later that it brought to mind words from the Bhagavad Gita: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”

Later, a student asked Oppenheimer, “How do you feel after having exploded the first atomic bomb on Earth?” His reply was, “Not the first atomic bomb, but the first atomic bomb in modern times.” Oppenheimer strongly believed that nuclear weapons were used in ancient India.

Fact can be stranger than fiction at times. I hope that you are beginning to see that these are not stories that I randomly dreamed up. I’m a very centered and rational thinker who is a truth seeker, so making up casual stories for sensationalism would be abhorrent to me. I stake my reputation on these revelations, and I do my utmost to keep them well-researched and accurate.

Why share this particular incarnation? As I’ve mentioned, it is a major turning point in human history. A further sinking into the abyss would need players that would soften the trauma of an event. I will often do this throughout history—be at key points in history along with members of my soul group. We have, throughout time, lessened the potential severity of many negative events’ magnitude or would hold back the tide in barbarism. I am a harmonizing soul that incarnates into out-of-balance environments to help humanity achieve or maintain its poise and equilibrium.

It will become apparent in my outline of future incarnations that this particular life as Yudhisthira is a landmark lifetime that set the stage for future lifetimes. A thread of our many incarnations exists within each one of our lives. The sum total of all of our lives comes together in our “now-life” to shape the mortal cloth we currently wear. I will eventually incarnate as Ananda, cousin and supporter of Buddha in the same area of India as this life, and, then again, as Ashoka the Great, who would unify India and spread Buddhism. The center of the flag of India today has the symbol of Ashoka’s chakra, which symbolizes dharma. Remember that Yudhisthira’s life symbolized righteousness or dharma.

Buddha, who remembered all of his past lives and the lives of those around him, could also see into the future lives of people he met. He once told Ananda that he would either ascend or be the first king of a united India. I guess I chose to be king over ascension. By doing so, I helped spread the work and ideas of Buddha through Buddhism. Ashoka’s life is an interesting one of conflict, battles, and romance, but such is life. I will share Ananda’s story in a later chapter in this book and Ashoka’s in a follow-up book.


II

How to Access Your Previous Incarnations

Past Life Regression is considered one of the most powerful tools available for transformation in the fields of integrative medicine, psychology, and self-awareness.

—International Association for Regression Research & Therapies

An October 19, 2010, radio show and poll about reincarnation on Coast to Coast AM with host George Noory indicated that 55.47 percent of 8,446 people surveyed believed that we all experience a succession of lives to advance and grow. There were 26.13 percent who felt that intriguing evidence for past lives existed, but were not fully convinced though still open to other explanations. Only 18.4 percent felt that reincarnation was just a made-up concept and that there was no real proof for it at all.

It has to be taken into account that Coast to Coast revolves around information and topics that are beyond the mainstream with an audience that is generally rather open-minded, but, since it is one of the biggest radio shows on the planet with more than 3.5 million listeners per week, I would assert that the poll results are significant and a close representation of the overall view on reincarnation. Over half of those polled unequivocally know about or believe in the transmigration of the soul, over a quarter are nearly convinced, and less than a fifth have not yet discovered enough information to side with this idea. So we see that over 80 percent of people are generally going along with the idea of reincarnation.

I feel that never before has it been as important to acknowledge and integrate the reality of past lives and reincarnation into our current awareness. Fragments left in other lifetimes leave unresolved issues and need to be brought to the surface so that they can be solved. By connecting with past lives and settling issues, we become whole and nonfragmented. When we clear past karma and resolve karmic debts, we can connect with our true soul essence. Karma refers to the energy created as a result of our actions and relationships during our current and past lives.

Karmic debt refers to entanglements, whether in this life or previous lives, that must be addressed, brought to a conclusion, and released. This release can happen in the present or at some point in the future, but they must be addressed before you can release the effects on your soul. Once karma is released you can continue on to enjoy your life more fully and freely. My own view of karmic debts is that they are simply life lessons that continue to manifest to us in one form or another life after life, until we learn what it is we need to balance our energies and then move forward. For instance, I once read of a past life regression wherein the soul lived through one thousand incarnations before the person worked through the negative emotion of jealousy.

We can also tap into information and skills at a more rapid pace once we consciously connect with past life abilities that we have developed over many lifetimes. A proclivity for any endeavor that we choose could be because we are tapping into the potential of formerly developed capabilities. By accepting this possibility, we can even further accelerate our development in any given venture.

Between incarnations we usually take time to review the life we’ve just lived. Every word, every deed, and every thought from every life is recorded and can be reviewed. The information for all of our lives is contained within the akashic records (akasha is a Sanskrit term meaning sky or ether). These records are described as containing all knowledge of human experience and the history of the cosmos. They are metaphorically described as a library; other analogies commonly found in discourse on the subject include a “universal supercomputer” and the “mind of God.”

People who describe the records assert that they are being constantly updated automatically and that they can be accessed between lives and in our current lives. People who are trained or gifted can access the information in the akashic records from our present dimension. To train in this yourself, you need to get into a meditative state and be open to the images and scenes that may come to you, if you request and venture to see them. It is a highly demanding challenge to finally get to the point where one is sufficiently stalwart and composed to really open one’s intuition and look into the past without bias or blinders, and even into our possible timelines for the future.

It is mostly the conscious or subconscious aversion toward the intense emotional upheaval that blocks the average human today from looking into all that right away, this and the disregard or the distrust in the existence of one’s direct connection to the akashic records. To bring yourself into a position where you can access them on your own, you must know that it is your divine right to do so, and be intent to look at the truth, whatever it is you may find. Really setting out on this endeavor is not to be taken lightly, and be assured that there are guides that you can call on to help you. In essence, the steps on your journey have to be taken by yourself, but there will always be help along the way.

This help can come in the form of your personal guardian angels or other entities. For some people, communication with them is realized more naturally and easily than the establishment of an immediate connection to the akashic records, and that is fine also. In any case, whether you choose to directly access the living library or if you choose to ask somebody to read it to you, discernment is always key. Be vigilant and prudent when scrutinizing information that comes to you in whatever way or form.

Sometimes the influx of such information can come rather unexpectedly, as the case of Suzanne Ward shows. For most of her life, she never had any particular interest or training in the metaphysical, yet currently she has written several books that deal with the afterworld and what we do and experience in that realm. Her books and messages contain information gleaned from her son Matthew, who died in an accident at age seventeen. It was relayed to her independently by several different psychics after her son’s death that he was still observing her and would talk to her telepathically at some point.

Suzanne was particularly impressed by the amount of personal information brought forward by the psychics that they could not possibly have known or come up with on their own, but it was only fourteen years after Matthew’s physical death that the predictions really manifested. Since then Matthew and Suzanne have communicated over many things, beginning with his experiences in the afterworld, which she has shared in many excellent books. Matthew relates that the correct term for heaven is nirvana, and he also shares information about what we can all expect to encounter in that environment between lives. Of course it has to be noted that simply because one is physically deceased and dwelling in the heavenly abode, this doesn’t mean that one’s discernment is suddenly impeccable. As above, so below; just as we are in a learning process while in human form, so is everybody in other realms, but their insights from their vantage points can surely be a great inspiration and guide stones.

There are also living human helpers who can assist you in getting into the meditative state necessary to access your past lives. For instance, in his books Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives and Destiny of Souls: New Case Studies of Life Between Lives, Michael Newton, a hypnotherapist who has worked with subjects in deep meditative states, has collected many accounts of the akashic records or the “Book of Life.” Another renowned practitioner in this field is Dolores Cannon, author of Between Death and Life and The Convoluted Universe, who found herself very surprised in the early phase of her work as a hypnotherapist in the 1960s when her clients were bringing up memories from previous lifetimes, sometimes not even as a human on this planet, all of which was completely unfamiliar to her back then. But unlike some of her colleagues, she would continue with the therapy. This is a virtue of any good therapist and past life regressionist—to assist and protect the client along his way through the vastness of his memories so that potentially unsettling memories may be processed constructively without any negative effects on the present life of the client.

Integrating and growing through the awareness of the vast information pool available to us is at the core of our evolution and applying the knowledge one can gather in a responsible and sagacious way are what it takes to live this knowledge into wisdom and to consciously expand our awareness through the myriad levels of existence. We can then truly realize the interconnectedness of everything, not merely as an idea that one is sympathetic of, but as a very distinctly experienced reality. In most religions, heaven is a realm in which we exist on a higher dimensional level, a plane of existence that is, of course, different from our three-dimensional reality in which we abide while we are incarnated on Earth.

It is from this other plane of existence that we usually review the impact of everything we did in our previous life after the death of our physical container, or even during our current lifetime when we tap into higher states of consciousness. Because both planes are permanently interwoven, you don’t have to die physically to connect to other levels of existence. You can also do it by intentionally changing your focus, which sounds very simple but actually takes a tremendous amount of inner discipline.

Another possible and rather harsh way to connect to the higher realms of existence is the near-death experience. There is a massive amount of congruent and independent documentation on the specifics of those experiences, clearly indicating that there is a very substantial reality behind them. One of the researchers who was inspired by such an experience was Betty J. Eadie, who has written several books that offer excellent insight into the life between lives. I read her book Embraced by the Light many years ago when it was first released and was deeply inspired by the account of her near-death experience and interactions in heaven where she reviewed her life. There she realized that not only her deeds but also her thoughts affected those around her and their lives in different ways depending on whether her thoughts and deeds were positive or negative. Betty explains how this creates a ripple effect, where we affect the people around us, and, in turn, they affect the people that they interact with, and, in turn, those people affect the people that they interact with ad infinitum.

Throughout this chapter, I’ve already given clues about the attitude necessary to connect with previous lifetimes and the akashic records right now, and I also mentioned concrete ways to accomplish this. To condense and summarize it now, I have broken it down into three categories that can be used individually or together, in any order or combination. It’s the process that I used for confirming and investigating my own past life incarnations.

  1. Intuitively exploring your own past life memories and connections.
  2. Contacting a reputable psychic or trance channel.
  3. Past life regression, PLR, sessions with a certified PLR practitioner.

First of all, try to connect with a historical period that you have been drawn to in your current lifetime. It can be anything from a few years before your birth to very ancient times. As a small boy, I was always drawn to World War II. I would be glued to the television or any movie about this topic. Now that I have learned that my most previous incarnation before this one was during World War II, I can see why I had the strong connection to that period. I was curious how it turned out because I died before the end of the war. Over time, as this curiosity was satisfied, I moved on to other periods of time I was always fascinated with, among them Egypt, Greece, and Rome. And again, through reconnecting with past lives, I began to understand where the pronounced interest for these eras came from.

Once you recognize a connection with a time period, contemplate what most fascinates you about it. Look at pictures from that time period. Do an Internet search and just let whatever comes up that interests you lead you along a path of discovery. Now that I know about particular past incarnations, what I often find is that, when I read articles and books about the relating epochs or do research on the Internet, I find myself either nodding my head in agreement or shaking my head in disagreement to certain events described. Often I don’t have any logical explanation for why I agree or disagree until much further research. It has become kind of fun to get these intuitive flashes that go against the academically recognized and taught history about certain events and to have them later justified.

One occasion where this has happened to me was when I immediately felt very certain about the fact that Pharaoh Tutankhamun was actually the son of Pharaoh Akhenaten. On some level, I just knew it, and I said for years that they were genetically related as son and father, even though no proof existed. But it has now become a recognized fact through DNA sampling that this is indeed the case. I have no doubt that much of what I speak of throughout this book that is not currently accepted as fact or part of the established history will eventually be proven sound. Perhaps some of the information in this book will even motivate others to do further studies on their own. By allowing yourself to be guided by your intuition and your past life connections you may also find similar proofs as I did and uncover more yet unestablished historical facts.

You may have experienced a connection with an event in time where the official account of it didn’t quite seem right to you. Over a period of time, new evidence may have come out about that time frame that really got your attention. New revelations may have provided for an “aha” moment, helping you to fully connect with the actual reality and giving you a sense of relief.

I believe that James Cameron’s 1997 epic romance and disaster film Titanic had exactly that effect on hundreds of millions of people who watched it. The movie is based on a fictionalized account of the sinking of the RMS Titanic that sank after hitting an iceberg on its ill-fated maiden voyage across the Atlantic from Britain to America. The movie Titanic was an enormous critical and commercial success; it was nominated for fourteen Academy Awards, eventually winning eleven, including those for best picture and best director. It became the highest-grossing film of all time with a worldwide gross of over $1.8 billion—the first film to reach the billion dollar mark—and remained so for twelve years until Avatar, again directed by James Cameron, surpassed it in 2010.

Production on the film began in 1995 when Cameron shot footage of the actual Titanic wreck. A reconstruction of the ship was built at Playas de Rosarito, Baja California, for filming purposes. I remember passing by this site on my way down to Rosarito beach restaurants from my home in Coronado, California, where I was stationed as a Navy SEAL at that time. The grilled and fried lobster was deliciously amazing, and at the time the beachside restaurants were little known or discovered.

I would marvel at the scale models of the Titanic as I passed by during the day on the coastal Mexican highway and wondered excitedly what the highly anticipated movie would reveal. On my return trip to San Diego, I would again pass by the dark mock-up of the ship under a clear starry night sky. I tried to get an image of what it must have been like on that sinking ship long ago under a similar starry sky with the orchestra playing on deck as the cold dark waters of the Atlantic relentlessly rose up the sides of the vessel. What must have gone through those people’s minds?

Apart from the scale models, computer-generated imagery was also used to re-create the sinking for the film, and, before its worldwide release, several documentaries described how the Titanic had broken up when it sank. Scientific proof and analysis of why the unsinkable ship had sunk and what had happened to the metal structure as it sat on the bottom of the cold Atlantic were all covered, much of which had not been generally known previous to that. The depiction of the sinking in the movie promised to be historically accurate with never-before-seen footage of the Titanic on the bottom of the ocean.

My thoughts are that many of us had been incarnate during the sinking of the Titanic and that we had never been fully satisfied with why the ship had sunk. I don’t mean to imply that we were all passengers, although some were, but that we were part of the vast humanity that was shocked and mystified at reading or hearing about the tragedy during that lifetime. That feeling of unresolved trauma that we had intensely felt for the victims of the Titanic carried over for many of us into this life.

I even know of one young man named Evan Justyn whom I met through my website for Intuitive Warrior. Evan was a student at the College of Charleston, South Carolina, who contacted me to express his admiration for the book. Evan was extremely interested in becoming a Navy SEAL, and, in the process of mentoring him, we have become good friends.

Not surprisingly it was Evan’s mother, Daria Justyn, who initially gave Evan the book, thinking that he would connect with the powerful message of how we can use the positive power of intuition and love in every situation in life including war. Daria is a successful intuitive and author of the beautifully written book Angels Whisper to Us: Decoding the Messages in Daydreams and she had me on as a guest speaker in 2010 on her popular BlogTalkRadio show Medium in Our Midst.

Like many women who are connected with their intuitive side and have come across my book, Daria believed that the book would help create a bond of common interest between herself and Evan, because Daria felt that Evan’s own advanced intuitive abilities would not be crushed by becoming a warrior if he connected with the information in the book. I believe Daria is correct, and, if Evan decides to pursue a Special Forces career, he will bring a level of intuitive skill that will help in the transformation of humanity from one focused on war to one of peace.

During a conversation one day at a seafood restaurant in historic Charleston, Evan told me how ironic it was for him to be interested in becoming a Navy SEAL. I will let Evan describe his fascinating story and how events unfolded that led him to the realization that he was one of the passengers on the actual Titanic who died on that fateful night.

“Up until I was three years old, whenever I was speaking, no one could understand anything that I was attempting to say. My mother, Daria, claimed it sounded like a foreign language. She took me to see speech therapists that ended up having me doing ridiculous things like blowing bubbles, but to no avail. She would just sit there and cry as this happened.

“One day when I was about three and a half years old, my mother and I were driving over a canal bridge in Point Pleasant, New Jersey. While we were driving over the bridge, I looked down at the water, and I said to her as clear as could be, ‘I fell off the bridge and drowned, but I was the daddy that time.’ Those were the first intelligible words I ever spoke. From that moment on, I spoke clear enough as a child of that age to be understood with no problem. Growing up I also had a tremendous fear of water. When I was an infant, anytime my mother attempted to wash my head, I would scream. Later, when I was a toddler, I was afraid to sit down in the bathtub and was terrified to get my head washed or let water be poured over it. As I grew a bit older, my family got an above-ground pool, and I would go so far as to go up the ladder but refused to get off of it and go into the water. I was quite happy just letting my toes dangle in the water.

“During this time, my great-grandfather was still alive and living with my grandmother. He had a subscription to National Geographic magazine, which he loved to share with me. One day the shipwreck of the Titanic appeared on the cover of an issue that featured information on how they had developed the technology to find the Titanic and what they had uncovered there since. From that point, I became completely obsessed with anything that had to do with the Titanic. There was also a documentary my grandmother had taped for me about the discovery of the Titanic, and I would spend my time watching it over and over. This was all quite mysterious, but a major piece of the puzzle fell into place when my mother held the copy of that particular issue of the National Geographic in her hands; that was the first time in her life that she saw actual images from the Titanic. She immediately made the connection that it wasn’t a bridge over water I had fallen off of, but the bridge of the Titanic.

“We lived around the corner from the library. We spent a lot of time there because my mother taught art classes there. I got to know all of the librarians and they knew me, because I had requested every book in the Ocean County library system on the Titanic shipwreck. In fact, I would go over to all the libraries whenever I would get a chance searching for anything on the Titanic I hadn’t seen before. It was because of my obsession with the Titanic that almost every librarian knew me by my first name.

“Eventually, James Cameron’s Titanic came out in theaters. I was about ten years old at the time, and my family managed to get tickets to see it on opening night. Unfortunately I do not remember anything of that experience nor of the rest of the night. I am told that I sat there physically motionless throughout the whole movie and that I didn’t say a single word. That night I got into bed, and, when my mom came into my room to say good-night, as always I was already half asleep and somewhat dreaming. She tucked me in and asked me what I thought about the movie. She says I replied, ‘The rooms were much smaller than they appeared in the movie.’

“She also said that I pulled on the collar of my pajamas and said, ‘Those collars felt really stiff and were tight around my neck.’ Following this statement, I just kind of shivered, maybe picking up on how cold it was on the voyage. Asking my mom about it now, what struck her most about my responses to how I felt about the movie was that they seemed like something I really experienced as opposed to something I had only seen on the movie screen.

“One other important factor during all of this was that I had some horrible problems with my lungs as a child. I had serious asthma and had to have a portable inhaler for when I woke up in the middle of the night struggling to breathe. It wasn’t until the time that the movie came out and I started getting adjusted by a chiropractor that it cleared up and disappeared. I have not had lung problems since nor had to use an inhaler to help me breathe.”

Evan’s testament is just one out of many examples illustrating the significant influence that events from past lives can wield in our present lifetime. When we connect with past life traumas, we can then proceed to release the hold they have on us in our current life, which is one of the values of connecting with past lives. Fortunately for Evan, his mother was open, patient, caring, and, best of all, a gifted intuitive who was able to help him work through the past life trauma that was influencing him in his current incarnation.

I personally remember, as a teenager in the mid-1970s, going with my mom to our local museum in Columbia, South Carolina, to see the Titanic exhibit that was traveling around the country. We were both very excited. We were in awe of the artifacts from the wreck, as well as the videos that showed the ship being built and the launch of the maiden voyage. Decades later and several years after the movie came out, there was an even more comprehensive exhibit, and synchronistically Evan had visited it. He shared with me another insight into a further release that he had after he experienced his release that came with watching the movie Titanic. The new exhibit was very realistic and to scale with the original ship’s dimensions; it also held more actual artifacts recovered from the wreck itself.

“I was fortunate to go to the new Titanic exhibit that’s been touring the country. It was on Ghost Hunters due to some of the artifacts being haunted, and it’s currently one of the world’s largest collections of Titanic artifacts.

“I went with my mother, and it was cool, but it also felt very strange at the same time. The exhibit plays a little game with you when you buy your ticket to get in. They give you a replica of a real-life ticket with an actual passenger’s name and information on it. My ticket was a man who had been on a book tour throughout Europe and was on his way back to America with his wife in second class.

“I think my mother’s character was a woman in first class and the second richest person on the ship. When you get to the end, they have a huge passenger manifesto with people by name and class split into two categories, as perished with the ship or survived. Unfortunately my guy died, but, in the iceberg room, there was a quote from him on a banner that his wife, who survived the sinking, had disclosed to reporters. He told her, ‘For the love of God, it’s the last lifeboat! Get on it.’ This really impressed me.

“The whole exhibit was absolutely astonishing; they had it set up as a gigantic ship. I believe they had the original companies who built the rooms for the Titanic build the rooms for the exhibit. You walked onto a reconstructed dock, then through steerage, second class, first class, the sun decks, and so on. They also had the iceberg room where they made a huge block of ice you could touch to feel how cold it was in the water. The interesting part about this is that saltwater has a lower freezing point than freshwater. The water the Titanic sank in was saltwater, which means that in order for the iceberg not to melt, the water had to be below freezing. Just touching the iceberg sent shivers through my spine. Not the best of feelings.

“The entire time you are in the exhibit you are surrounded by objects brought up from the wreckage. Many of the artifacts are perfectly preserved since the area on the ocean floor was so cold, dark, and under enormous pressure. A suit with original stitching, a glass jug that still had cooking oil in it, a leather fanny pack filled with experimental perfume that still had scents to it, and a steamer trunk the size of a fridge were all perfectly preserved and on display.

“I honestly did not know what to expect while traveling to this exhibit. I was excited but at the same time I was pretty quiet during the car ride. It felt like I was going back to a traumatic event, so I didn’t really know how I would react or what to expect. Going through the whole re-created ship and seeing everything in its original state felt like looking at old items you once had. You could sense that emotions were very subdued in the re-created Titanic; it was very quiet instead of it being like a regular museum with comparatively high energy and people talking.

“It was very fascinating for me to experience how, in certain parts of the museum, I was struggling to breathe and had to stand still for a few minutes. In the end I felt like I needed it. It was like the sheer act of going through all this lifted a weight off of me. I got the feeling that a lot of the other visitors experienced something similar there, too. It gave me a lot of closure, and I felt that many people were affected in a very similar way.”

My thoughts are that Evan’s mother was his daughter in the Titanic lifetime. He lovingly saw her off in safety and was not able to rejoin her and went down with the ship. In their current life, she has returned the love by bringing him safely into this world and helping him overcome the trauma of the Titanic’s sinking that he carried through into this lifetime.

I believe that, at different times throughout our lives, we are all affected by past life traumas. They can manifest in many different aspects of our lives, whether it is in relationships or business dealings, or among siblings or parents. We will often switch roles from one life to the next in order to learn and grow in wisdom. As one example, there could be a mother in one life becoming the daughter in the next life and vice versa, as is the case with my wife, Tracy Jo, and her daughter, Christy, who had opposite roles in a previous life. When you closely examine it, you can see the justification for this role reversal, the challenges that are presented, and the lessons that can be learned by both parties.

Virtually any issues or traumas that were experienced in previous lives can be rectified and released in our current life, as we have seen through the example of Evan and his mother, Daria. Fortunately Daria was open and lovingly supportive of the idea that Evan was possibly being affected by a previous incarnation.

Often synchronistic events will show up, like Evan’s grandfather showing him the National Geographic magazine and documentary video that sparked an intense curiosity in Evan. Another powerful synchronicity was Daria making the connection with Evan and the Titanic when she picked up the same National Geographic magazine that had so mesmerized Evan. If we open up to the idea that there really can be an influence on our current life ensuing from past lives, then we can heal from these events and move on to more productive lives. A mysterious or an unusual connection to historical times, cultures, and geographical locales that attract an unusual amount of interest from us can be possible connections with past life times.

Imagine where Evan would possibly be today if he had not experienced the release of the trauma of his death during the sinking of the Titanic. He would most probably not even think of going to Navy SEAL training. He might also suffer from inexplicable anxieties as well. I believe that Evan could find even further release if he could find out who he actually was on the Titanic. I’m sure that from the several clues he has gotten over the years that he may be close.

After the tremendous successes of the movie Titanic, many people were finally ready to let go of the fear and confusion that had held the collective consciousness for more than eighty years. James Cameron provided a tremendous gift and service to humanity by making this film. At least hundreds of millions of people have now seen it, and the veils of mystery and confusion are finally being lifted. The ghosts that have haunted so many are quietly fading and drifting away to a much-deserved rest.

The second thing I would recommend for connecting with the idea of past lives is to contact a reputable psychic or advanced Reiki practitioner who specializes in past life therapy in your area. You can often find out about a good psychic by asking others who have visited a local psychic or Reiki practitioner. Internet searches are good as well and will often contain reviews and recommendations. Many books on reincarnation contain stories of how people have begun past life awareness through psychics. Intuitive individuals have helped people connect with their past lives through their readings, catalyzing a psychological release or opening the door to fascinating discoveries. Often psychics and trance channels will be mentioned and referenced by name, location, and contact information in these books. This is how I got in contact with Kevin Ryerson, whose information and website I found in an excellent book called Return of the Revolutionaries: The Case for Reincarnation and Soul Groups Reunited by Dr. Walter Semkiw. Kevin Ryerson’s own work and insights are contained in his book Spirit Communication: The Soul’s Path, which I still find invaluable and refer to often.

Kevin is a trance channel, who works in cooperation with Ahtun Re, an Ascended Master from ancient Egypt. Ahtun Re is an interesting character and will often ask what you are feeling and what your thoughts are for a particular lifetime, when he accesses information from his location in the higher dimensional spirit world. He is not always forthcoming in revealing information, but Kevin believes that in our sessions he has been revealing an unusual amount of information to support me with my work that is dedicated to helping enlighten and empower humanity. Ahtun Re will usually either confirm your intuitive insights or redirect you to what actually happened and what your relationship was to a particular time frame or historical figure. This procedure helped me substantially with uncovering my memories from many different lifetimes, as you will be able to see throughout this book.

Once you’ve decided to contact an intuitive to give you a past life reading, find out if the person will record your session or if you will need to provide a recording device. Kevin Ryerson, who lives more than one thousand miles from me, fortunately does his readings over the phone and recommends you record your own session. If the person doing the reading will record the reading, I recommend that you still use or bring your own device as a backup. You will definitely want a recording of your reading so that you can refer back to it. Often the information provided can be overwhelming in its revelations and you may miss valuable dialogue as you ponder some profound point that has been revealed to you.

I still refer often to my recorded past life sessions to gather clarity and further information that I have missed or did not fully grasp. Some of my recordings are now over a decade old, and I still receive insights from them.

I remember the first time, many years ago, when I learned that I was incarnate during the lifetime of Jesus and had actually interacted very closely with him during his final ministry. I was astonished when I initially heard it, but, on a deeper level, I knew it was correct. As I drove back to my place in Virginia Beach after my first-ever psychic reading from Mary Roach, I was in tears for much of the drive. My initial past life regressions had the same effect. When you are reconnecting with very intense, long-lost, and often suppressed emotions, you will likely have some powerful releases. These releases are very rewarding because they unravel pent-up energies.

A release will often be followed by a clarity that can bring forward a powerful flood of past life memories and deeper understandings of the nature of your own existence. I have often felt a deep gratitude for connecting with my own past lives. On many occasions, I’ve experienced a profound sense of joy and awe upon finding new revelations of past life recall. Like all new experiences that are of an emotional nature, you gradually condition to the release of information. I’m rarely shocked by the magnitude of revelations that come forth these days, and I’ve found that allows even more material to come through.

The third thing I recommend that you can do to connect with past life memories is to contact a person that does past life regression therapy. Arguably one of the most famous past life regression (PLR) practitioners is Dr. Brian L. Weiss, the author of Same Soul, Many Bodies and Many Lives, Many Masters. He has written numerous excellent books that I can really recommend if you are going to consider PLR research. He has also produced several very effective meditations CDs that can help you get into a meditative state to do your own PLRs. Dr. Weiss also does seminars all over the world but is unfortunately unavailable for personal PLR sessions; however, he does group regressions during his seminars.

After several years of searching for the right PLR practitioner, I came across some information that listed certified PLR practitioners throughout the United States. I searched for someone in my area, and that’s how I found Rebecca Shaw of the Charleston Hypnotherapy Center in Charleston, South Carolina. I would later learn that Rebecca and I had crossed paths in previous lives, and, to be quite honest, such synchronicities aren’t even so much of a surprise to me anymore; they’re rather something to be expected once you really set out to uncover the mysteries of life and to work for the highest and best good of all. The universe has magnificent ways to let things fall into place when you align with this greater focus. So having found someone that I had worked with in previous lives to help me uncover past life memories now makes perfect sense to me. My first few sessions were absolutely amazing and were far more than I had expected. I had vivid recall of my past lives under regression. PLR works because you go through a deep, guided meditation process that allows the intuitive side of the brain to fully come forward. Once you are deeply regressed you are able to open the door to any past life. Rebecca was very intuitive in this whole process and guided me into several lifetimes during many sessions that revealed an amazing amount of information.

I was fortunately guided expertly under deep meditation, and, because Rebecca is very intuitive and aware, she was able to help me gather much of the information for this book. In my first couple of sessions, I had a very strong emotional response. I had tears streaming down my face, but I learned to allow these emotions to surface and dissipate more easily with multiple PLR sessions. I was also more open to allow information to surface as I learned to navigate while regressed in a particular life. At first, like with anything new, you may be in awe of what you are experiencing. I surely was, but you will settle down as you get more PLRs. Rebecca was my guide while in the deep meditative state and seemed to know the perfect time to ask questions and prod me in a new direction. I was moving within a transcended state of no time and accessing multiple incarnations during my regressions.

In one of my favorite regressions, I examined a lifetime during the era of the Spartan King Leonidas and the Battle of Thermopylae. Kevin Ryerson, through his communications with Ahtun Re, also confirmed much of what I had strongly felt over multiple sessions concerning my experiences during my Spartan lifetime, and much more information was revealed in my own intuitive meditations and in other past life sessions with psychics, whether channeled or PLRs.

All of the past lives that I write about in this book have had multiple confirmations. These confirmations were made without the different parties knowing any of the prior information that I had been exposed to. This multiple-source validation over time has strengthened the entire body of work that I’m writing about in this book. I’m not trying to impress or draw acclaim from a famous past life incarnation.

I have had a fairly humble life this time around, and, in many ways, it serves me better to play out of the limelight. Being a king or extremely wealthy can have just as many drawbacks as benefits. Imagine trying to write books about former incarnations if I was the president of the United States or the king of England. It wouldn’t go over well. Being a decorated former Navy SEAL gives me some credibility. I’ll take a little flak; I’m sure, but I’ve survived a lot of years in combat zones, so I’m pretty thick-skinned at this point.

My own past life research is still ongoing and will probably last for the rest of this life. The reward and satisfaction of researching, discovering, and then further investigating my own past lives has held many benefits, which will become more apparent throughout this book. I have also begun to notice the people around me in former incarnations, and it gives me insight into my relationships with others that would never come through without such insight. I sincerely hope that the ideas outlined in this chapter are just as useful to you as they have been for me. I trust that you may uncover and explore your own past life memories more clearly and deliberately after reading this book. Now let’s journey through time together.


III

Pharaoh Menes’s Nubian Head Charioteer, 3100 BCE

Rebirth is an affirmation that must be counted among the primordial affirmations of mankind.

—Carl Gustav Jung

My very first reading with Ahtun Re, who had also experienced a cycle of reincarnations on Earth, was very surprising. Here was a genuine Ascended Master, whose last incarnation was during the time of Pharaoh Akhenaten in the fourteenth century BCE, in which he had completed his personal human curriculum and therefore ascended. Ahtun Re has been watching humanity evolve ever since, serving as a teacher of mankind from the spirit realm. I first read a number of his communications in several of Shirley MacLaine’s books, of which Out on a Limb had tremendously helped me expand my own view on reincarnation. But it was Ahtun Re’s prominent appearance in Dr. Walter Semkiw’s Return of the Revolutionaries that then eventually prompted me to contact Kevin Ryerson. As a trance channel, Kevin allows Ahtun Re to connect with his spirit and to utilize his body in order to communicate with humans, which is why Kevin jokes that as a channel he serves as a “human telephone,” connecting the spirit world with the human race.

It took me a little while to fully grasp that an Ascended Master of the likes of Jesus and Buddha was chatting with me about the mysteries of life and my past lives. It compels respect and humility, but by no means do I think that I was at any time the exclusive recipient of such guidance. As time and space are really relative constructs that are perceived and experienced very differently on different levels of existence and even in different states of consciousness, Ascended Masters can inspire and communicate with countless humans simultaneously. Of course, that doesn’t take away anything from anyone’s personal experience, but it helps to put things in perspective. As I spoke with Ahtun Re over the phone, his easy conversational style and humor quickly put me at ease anyway.

The information that he conveyed matched what I had heard from other psychics, what I had found out in past life regressions, and what I had gleaned intuitively during my meditations, without anyone involved having collaborated or shared any information prior to that. He also helped me to connect with information that I had not yet been fully aware of. For example, at the end of our first conversation when he volunteered, “Oh, and by the way, we had two lives together as friends.” One of those had been with Pharaoh Menes, in which both of us had been Nubian warriors. Ahtun Re told me that he had been the head general of the pharaoh’s armies, and that I had been the pharaoh’s general of the chariots. The chariot drivers, Ahtun Re related, were the equivalent of today’s Special Forces warriors.

This book is currently available in paperback (July 10, 2014) at amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/The-Awakening-Warrior-Remembered-Volume/dp/1497521262/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1405112096&sr=1-1-catcorr&keywords=the+awakening+of+a+warrior+michael+jaco

The book is also available in digital format:

http://www.amazon.com/Awakening-Warrior-Past-Lives-Remembered-ebook/dp/B00LX9FE12/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=1-1-catcorr&qid=1405112096



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Biography of a SEAL Team Six Operator Chapter Thirteen

June 12th, 2014 mjaco 2 comments

The image of the first SEAL Team Five patch shows a UDT Frogman coming out of our primary insertion medium the surf zone. Freddie the frog has a cigar in his mouth which is used to light dynamite to illustrate one of our capabilities, demolition. He is carrying a stoner machine gun which was mainly used in Viet Nam with a bandoleer of ammo for the weapon around his shoulders. Carrying the stoner was a mark of a badass operator and many wanted to carry it. Freddie has a white Navy Dixie Cup Hat on to signify he is a sailor. In the background the sun is setting on UDT 11 which was the foundation and linage of SEAL Team Five.

This patch was picked out by the senior guys in the command at the time the transition. was made and was not well liked by many of the young guys who wanted to see a SEAL on the emblem. I remember waiting outside the large classroom with the other junior team five operators. The classroom was where we would conduct pre-mission briefings and other important functions as a command. The senior guys on this rare occasion decided to exclude the new guys and didn’t let us have a say in the decision making.

Many people disregarded UDT members as inferior to SEAL team members and the young guys wanted to make the break with the past linking them to the perception of substandard abilities. To me this was like thinking any SEAL, other than a SEAL Team Six Assault Team Operator, who are considered the pinnacle of being a SEAL operator, is inferior. The only difference is the training focus. ST-6 SEAL’s are chosen from the SEAL Teams as a whole so it would be ridiculous to think any SEAL substandard. In my mind it was the same as a UDT operator being compared with a SEAL operator. We were all a band of brothers just with different levels of training and focus. When those young guys at SEAL Team Five that didn’t like the Freddie the frog patch eventually moved up the ladder in rank and were in charge what did they do?

Note to those in leadership positions, don’t disregard your junior peoples ideas. Perhaps if we had been let in on the conversation for a new command patch Freddie would still be around.

I was working in the diving department of SEAL Team Five wondering how I was going to get in on the action as a SEAL operator in a new platoon when I was asked to help start up the new training department of SEAL Team Five. I only had one platoon under my belt but I had a lot of well rounded experience as a former Navy Fleet Diver. I was being honored

I was one of the first chosen by the new Training Department Head, Steve, an LT. with Platoon experience as an assistant officer in charge. His senior enlisted assistant was a Master Chief Petty Officer with Combat experience in Viet Nam named Roy.

Steve was perfect for the position because he was extremely inquisitive about SEAL operations and desired to make ST-5’s nascent training cell comparable to ST-1’s training department or better. Steve was of average build and lean. His somewhat boyish face was offset by a mustache.  A fast talker and quick with a joke he loved a good laugh. He could be overly focused and temperamental at times but he was a great officer to work with.

Roy was a legend in his own time. A powerfully built man that was quick witted and usually had the whole command laughing hysterically at gatherings. There are times in your life when you are deeply influenced in a positive way that lasts a lifetime and Roy had that effect on me and most of the other men in training cell and eventually our platoon. All of the men that were hand picked from the best in the command at ST-5 would also go on to start our own platoon together.

I look back and see these events in my life as some of the most rewarding times in my career not just as an operator learning new information but also as a young man maturing in a great environment of respect and mutual goal setting. I had superior role models and would fashion my own leadership after what I was fortunate to be learning. What I learned in this formative period would carry positively into very successful leadership roles of my own in the future.

We began to formulate curriculum and outline the blocks of training time frames necessary to train platoons for SEAL deployments. Fortunately the next platoon that would be deploying would be the familiar UDT type deployment. SEAL Officers In Charge, OIC’s were usually responsible for training their platoons to the necessary level of proficiency in a UDT platoon. In a SEAL team their was a training cell  dedicated to training the SEAL platoons.

An officer by the name of Steve was the next to deploy his platoon and he was doing most of the traditional work of lining his training up but we were helping in various ways while we formed up the new Training Department. The platoon commander Steve would coincidentally be one of my Red Assault Squadron OIC’s at ST-6 at a future date.

The training cell we were forming would also be the first actual SEAL platoon to leave out of the newly formed ST-5. We were being hand picked from all the teams on the West coast.

Eventually we began to turnover our responsibilities to others who would in turn train us for six months before we deployed.

My favorite block of training was land warfare. We headed out to our desert compound in Niland, Ca at the foot of the chocolate mountains. So called because of their dark brown to black coloring. It would be the peak of the summer with temperatures during the day well into the hundreds and in the eighties at night. We initially focused on weapons and patrolling. Our training cell was augmented by former ST-1 guys who knew the tactics and lay of the land to get the most benefit out of the training in a short period of time.

Our camp in Niland was named Billy Machen. Billy had payed the ultimate sacrifice as a SEAL team one point man in Vietnam who alerted and saved his platoon by opening up on an enemy ambush position before his platoon patrolled into the kill zone.

This was a great time for us as a platoon. We got to know each other on a deep level. Long hot days that went well into the night were followed by hilarious nights in the open bay metal quonset hut barracks cooled by what were called swamp coolers that only cooled the outside air temperature by about twenty degrees on a good day. Around ten at night they would get the temps down into the low 80’s. We joked about the day poking fun at each other and laughing till tears filled our eyes. After about an hour of this it would settle down until someone would make an obscure joke that had us laughing until we fell asleep and dreamt of tactical maneuvers with live fire and demolitions charges going off.

After one night of practicing night helicopter insertions with live fire we came back to clean our weapons. It was one of those rare occasions when Roy would open up about his experiences in Viet Nam. He was the only one in our group with combat experience and we hung on his every word. He told us about how his platoon had snuck in and assaulted a North Vietnamese, NVA,  barracks complex.  He was a primary stoner machine gunner that was supposed to fire his weapon down the line of NVA sleeping in their cots while another team mate raked the other side of the barracks filled with cots with Stoner fire. He said that when he went in his gun jammed after just a few rounds. The Stoner was notorious for jamming. When it fired well it was devastating and when it didn’t it sucked.

You could tell Roy was reliving the event as his eyes seemed to have that far away look. Everyone had been cleaning their weapons under wooden awnings that cover the weapons cleaning bins. The lights shown down from above and illuminated the area as moths and other insects danced in the glow in the hot summer night.

“I fired a few rounds up the left side of the cots grouped close together, he said, their were dozens on my side that I could make out in the darkness. The NVA were completely unaware of our presence. My gun jammed. I looked back at the man that was supposed to be my backup in case of a jam. All I could mutter was, MMMM… I was so scared I couldn’t speak!” he said with a laugh. We all reflected on this and still to this day I see this as an important lesson.

It doesn’t matter how well you are trained and how much pressure you have been put through even in combat situations you still are going to have your moments when you are going to freeze up. It’s been nearly thirty years ago since this lesson and I can reflect back on my own combat experiences and honestly say that I have had similar moments myself. Sometimes I performed flawlessly in combat and a few other times I was caught off guard by something unforeseen and unexpected and I had a moment of “aw shit”. Fortunately it was my extensive training in overcoming adversity that helped me work through it as Roy did when he and his platoon continued their assault through the entire NVA complex creating havoc and destruction.

It’s the truly great leaders that can humble themselves and admit vulnerabilities to help teach others and that night was one of those moments when our veteran hero shared a rare teaching moment.

We eventually ended our training with what we call an FTX or final training exercise to measure and grade what we had learned and if it was up to speed. Every block of training was the same. You practiced and then you were graded. Every capability was trained and graded over and over again during the six months of redeployment training. Eventually a platoons training would be broken into several six month blocks. Similar to what we did at ST-6 there would be a period of training where personal qualifications of the individual were honed or new one learned. I would be learning many different skills over the years. Many top secret skills are learned by SEAL’s throughout their careers. I was fortunate to learn some of the more rare and obscure qualifications. One of these was to be inserted deep behind enemy lines to destroy mountain passes.

The next block of training was when the entire group came together and trained for specific mission capabilities like diving, parachuting into water which I loved because the landing was so gentle or land warfare like we were currently involved in. Our FTX was very memorable. We were required to hump through the desert for over fifty miles over a three day and night period and assault a target with live fire and destroy it with demolitions. We were then to exfiltrate to a designated point for pick up. All of this was to be done undetected while we were being hunted day and night by opposition forces.

Hauling water and gear for that long in the peak point of summer is incredibly challenging. As an M-60 heavy weapon machine gunner I had the heaviest load. Just my weapon and ammo weighed nearly one hundred pounds.

Water, food, medical, radio, pistol and ammo etc was nearly another hundred pounds. I was carrying nearly my own bodyweight in gear. The good thing is that I was lightening my load everyday by drinking and sweating it out.We had jelled to the point as a platoon where we didn’t need to do hand and arm signals anymore to communicate. We just knew what the group was doing.

There was a canal that ran through the dessert close to where we operated at. As we would get close to this area it was cooler and provided more cover because of the vegetation that grew from the close proximity to the water source. The problem was that rattlesnakes liked this area as well. I remember our point man Glen didn’t like to move in that area so we stayed on the fringe of it and walked fairly well and rapidly the first night. I was so exhausted after the first night that just before the sun came up I just through down my poncho and laid on the ground and passed out. We had found a good hiding spot for the day to lay up until we could move again the next night. I remember my eyes snapping open just as the first rays of light broke over the mountains to the east and seeing a tarantula walking slowly by my head checking me out. You seem to go into another kind of reality when you get silent, walk and sleep with the earth. Some of my most memorable times in life were as an operator walking silent under a billion stars in remote areas of the earth. I felt the big spider was no threat and fell back asleep.

One thing you learn as an operator is how to sleep when you get the opportunity. I have fallen fast asleep in the most challenging environments and circumstances. We slept the sleep of the dead throughout the day alternating watches for an hour then falling asleep again until it was close to sunset. The heat had been incredible during the day and it was a challenge to drink because the water felt like it was near boiling point. But you had to drink or you’d die. So drink we did. After all it lightened the load.

We moved out again as it grew dark the sun just setting over the mountains to the west. The sun would have been shining still on our home along the silver strand in Coronado. I thought of floating in the cool water of the Pacific and my body temperature seemed to drop. We headed back towards the canal later in the night at the insistence of our OIC Steve. Glen resisted and in our halted position facing outward we heard their whispered debate. We headed to the canal and it’s cover as we neared our target. As the 60 gunner I’m near the back of the patrol of eight men. I could hear the sound of rattles from far ahead. I head the quick shuffle of feet and excited breathing, “That was a big one!” Glen said with almost a giggle. Steve relented and we moved away from the canal. Later before the sun came up we again cautiously moved back to the canal for cover during the day. Throughout the night we had ducked for cover as helo’s searched for us. Today we would have to find more cover as they continued their intensive search near the target area. Amazingly it began to rain as we were in monsoon season. It was a welcome relief for awhile until our gear and clothes became soaked. Fortunately the sun never came back out but it became humid and was almost worse than the dry heat and sunlight beating down on us. The rain stopped and the helo’s buzzed around looking for us like angry hornets.

The next night we linked up with our other squad that had been humping through the desert from a different direction and assaulted our target late in the night a couple hours before sun rise. After carrying a thousand rounds of linked ammo I was happy to let it fly. My barrel got so white hot I could see the rounds going through it. I worked the tracer rounds back and forth across the target area ripping through anything that might have survived. The riflemen went quickly through a dozen magazines and the few men that had 40 millimeter grenade launchers attached to their weapons let several explosive golden eggs fly. Gold was the identifying color of High Explosive, HE, rounds.  Next we set an overwatch position and the demolition team went in and set up explosives on simulated communication towers. After they had finished and rejoined us we moved rapidly off the target. A few minutes later an earth shaking thunderclap ripped through the steamy hot night.

We moved to our rondavous spot and were picked up by helo’s for a nice cool ride around the desert before they set us down outside our compound. We debriefed our operation and were given a thumbs up from training cell. Of course every training cell can think of a hundred ways you could have done the operation better but in the end we knew we could pull off a mission like this successfully.

We had an exceptional group of operators and I still see this group as one of the best I’ve ever worked with. Every platoon should be so lucky as to have the best of the best.

We would go on to impress many groups over our training cycle with our ability to pull off the impossible. We even did a mine clearance operation with new technology gear that no one else had been able to effectively use and find and clear a mine field that everyone knew was impossible to do. The best of the best in several other communities had given us the mission knowing we couldn’t pass it as we surreptitiously found out later. If we had been able to find and neutralize 80% of the mines it would have been a success but we had a 98% success rate. When they went back to find the mine shapes they had placed for us they had trouble finding them. It took them over a week to locate them all.

It had been an incredible training period and everyone was satisfied with our performance. Now we would go overseas to prove that a new SEAL team could send out a qualified platoon in short order. Many new SEAL teams would be confidently and successfully formed over the next several decades following this example.

In my next chapter I’ll share the thrill and excitement of a deployed platoon overseas.

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Biography of a SEAL Team Six Operator Chapter Twelve

April 18th, 2014 mjaco No comments

In the early morning hours before the sun came up a few of my anxious platoon mates and I could see the faint outline of the coast far ahead on the horizon. The familiar and distinctive cliffs of Point Loma and the lighthouse with the same name marked the entrance to San Diego Bay. The hum of the giant diesel engines deep within the body of our home for the last six months reverberated through the steel hull and I could feel tingles of it in the soles of my jungle boots. Ships and sailors grow an affinity for each other over time and I would miss this old girl. She had kept me safe and sound and I would carry the memories of her for the rest of my life.

The time before dawn when the stars are still visible and the light of a new day is about to break is one of my favorite times at sea. The slight rocking of the ship as it was gently pushed by ocean waves created a meditative rhythm. I contemplated what was ahead for my life when we docked the ship and departed with our war gear.

We cruised into the opening to San Diego Harbor early enough to avoid the many sailboats that darted around the bay and often flitted mindlessly in front of big grey hulls that could run over them and churn them into small bits of flotsam. When I was on the sub rescue ship we would often come into the bay in the middle of the afternoon. I remember the curses of our captain ringing out as he screamed out “all stop!” if that was followed by “all astern full” you knew the stream of curse words would be even more vociferous. I never saw him get angry over anything unless we had to pull into port during the afternoon. It was almost as if the sailors on the sailboats were drunk and playing a game of chicken with us.

I was working out at my favorite Jack La Laine fitness gym around this time frame when an elderly gentleman came up to me and complained about how the sailboats had the right of way in the bay. I said nothing during his tirade but had heard my captain say that Naval ships had the right of way! My thoughts on the subject were common sense should prevail and that no one should ever tempt insulting the law of gross tonnage to make a point.

We continued past Point Loma in the gathering light and off to starboard or right side of the ship I watched as  North Island Naval Air Base located on Coronado Island glided silently by. Just south of the place where the first aircraft landings were practiced and then performed off the coast was the famous Hotel Del Coronado where Marilyn Monroe had become an international superstar filming “Some Like It Hot.” Just a little further south along the beach voted the best in the United States was the headquarters and compounds of the UDT/SEAL Teams. We glided serenely under the pale blue Coronado Bay Bridge the famous land mark of one of the most beautiful bays in the world and then docked at San Diego Naval Base. I saw my old ship the USS Florican docked nearby and thought about how far I’d come in such a short time. It was like a whole different world for me now. We quickly unloaded our gear and headed up over the Bay bridge we had just went under back to Coronado Island. We put our gear away and were dismissed until the next day for morning quarters.

I had put my car in storage for six months on the amphibious base in Coronado as I would do on many occasions in the future. Like all good SEALs I wanted to operate and get back into a platoon as soon as possible. I was no longer a F__ing new guy and I was ready to prove myself as a seasoned operator.

After we were back for a few days it became evident that the next platoon was already full. BUD/S was starting to churn out new SEAL’s at a growing rate. It was the dawn of a new era. I would eventually become part of SEAL Team Five and the sun filled era of UDT would set forever. The mission of SEAL’s deploying on ships has not gone away however and still exists today with only the name changed although the level of training and capabilities has increased since my first days in the Teams.

We were off for a few days and all the guys of my platoon dispersed into departments, got out of the service or moved on to new commands and new opportunities.

I was looking for a place to rent in Coronado which is difficult because they get snatched up quick. After just a week of being back all the commands on the strand were called into the large multi use classroom at UDT-12. We were all briefed by a SEAL officer from the experimental Diving Unit in Panama City, Florida about a new study for extending the new Drager rebreathing dive tables. They needed volunteers from the teams for several months worth of studies. We were told that you would get partial extra money everyday for food and live in Condo’s on the beach.

The caveat was that during these experimental dives in a controlled wet tank environment you may suffer seizures from oxygen toxicity at depth. When this was first put out most of the crowd laughed out loud at the idea that they would volunteer for being Guinea pigs for circumspect results.

In my mind, with my hard hat diving background I considered this one of those good deals of a lifetime. I was the only one from UDT-12 to volunteer and one of only four other guys from the West coast teams that would join me on this adventure.

I put my car back in storage and headed out two days later for Florida. Most of the guys that showed up for this dive experiment were East coast SEALs. I knew none of the guys other than a couple of the SEAL Team One guys I had partied with briefly in the Philippines during one of my Platoons brief stops there earlier that year. We had a total of about twenty guys. The Two senior enlisted SEALs that were at the experimental dive unit would assist us in the diving.

The diving day was broken up into groups of divers that would each dive either in the morning or afternoon. Some days you would dive and some days you would be a tender or would sit on a stainless steel bench out of the water and keep an eye on your assigned buddy. This was for safety in case he suffered from the effects of O2 toxicity.

We were thoroughly briefed on the physiological effects of O2 at depth and how the study was calculated through careful scientific analysis to be safe. We were the last evidence that the scientists needed in the equation to make the new tables a reality.

When SEAL’s are on combat dives they need to stay undetected just below the water to their target. It could be a ship that is going to be sunk with mines, a ship that is to be boarded, or a sneak attack behind enemy lines. Going too deep into the water causes pure O2 to become toxic to the body. The ideal dive depth that was safe was between fifteen and twenty feet. Any deeper and you ran the risk of a worst case seizure. Not a good thing when you are trying to be stealthy.

We already knew that we could safely make excursions to deeper depths. The reason for this might be enemy search boats passing close by or the unknown or unpredictable ship passing by. You had to get deep enough when this happened to not get sucked up into the props of a passing ship and become hamburger meat.

We were going to calculate the safe limits of sustained dives for as long as several hours with excursions to deeper depths for several minutes periodically throughout the dive.

For the first several weeks we got comfortable with the schedule and working with each other.

It was late January and although warmer than most of the US during this time frame it was still chilly in the morning and evenings. We were in the pan handle of Florida and in the spring time this place would be packed. Spring breakers from colleges all over the country would flock to this area and the parting would be off the charts. Now it was subdued and the huge bars and night clubs on the beach were almost empty even on friday and saturday nights.

I was at one of these bars on a Friday night at a place called the Spinnaker Beach Club. The club was exceptional with great views of the ocean and a huge dance floor and stage for concerts. It was fairly immense and labyrinthine with different bar areas throughout a building that could hold several hundred people at one time.

I was dancing with some girls and one of my new East coast SEAL buddies. We were having a great time hanging out. The two Florida locals told me that I was a great dancer and should dance with their friends on ladies night at the club. “What do you mean?” I asked. “They are male strippers!” they said. They both said they would be glad to introduce me to the head of the group who they were good friends with and who also owned the biggest fitness gym in town. I thought, what the heck, why not give it a try. It could be fun having women screaming and going wild while I shook my bootie around on stage. What red blooded male wouldn’t like that?

Ever since I was a teenager growing up in Columbia, SC the girls had lined up to watch me dance with other girls. I had some good moves and the ladies liked them. I was super fit after having gone through SEAL training and was always in the gym even when I was growing up. It just might be feasible that I could pull this off.

I worked out at the owners gym in town a couple of days later with the girls from the club. The gym was packed with beautiful, fit Florida girls. Something about lots of sunshine and the beach life does wonders for people. I met the gym owner and head of the Dance group. He was a successful bodybuilder and had won several bodybuilding shows. His trophies were all over the gym on display. He told me that they didn’t normally take outsiders but had seen me working out and his friends had talked me up so he would give me a shot in a couple of nights on ladies night that thursday night!

I’m normally an introvert. You wouldn’t know it by this point but it’s true. I would be just as happy curled up at home on a friday night with a good book reading to my lady love as being out on the town. But as my teammates would often say we were young, dumb and full of …it. Dancing was my outlet for many years and now I would get the opportunity to fully express that creative aspect of me.

I would like to say my first dance was amazing and a big hit but alas it was not so perfect. I’d had a suit made in Hong Kong that I brought with me on the trip. I didn’t know how to tie a neck tie at the time. All mine growing up had been the pre-tied type that you just clip on. One of my SEAL buddies tied one for me and I had it so I could slip it over my head and around my neck and then tighten it. I was a little nervous for my first strip show. Fortunately the crowds were not large yet. Just a few dozen women for my first stage performance. It took all my SEAL courage to got on stage and start stripping it off. We would do a set of two songs. I eventually learned that you slowly strip your clothes off during the first set and then really get into the sexy dancing on the second song.

The first song of my first set as a male exotic dancer had me striping that suit off to the cheers of the crowd pretty quick. I was doing all right until I got to that damn tie. It would not come loose for nothing? I even tried to elicit help from some ladies in the crowd but they couldn’t free that sucker either. I ended up wearing it around my neck the whole time. Didn’t seem to matter to the ladies though. They filled my swim suit briefs with money. Payday!

I got to be good friends with the other guys in the group. The other two guys were hard working construction men that worked out at the bodybuilders gym. All of them except me of course had grown up and lived all their lives in Panama City, Fl. There were four of us total. The head guy would come out and do poses as a bodybuilder which was his also his stage name. The announcer would call out ladies please give a warm welcome for the “The Bodybuilder!” His girlfriend was drop dead gorgeous and was always by his side. She was the only female that was allowed in the VIP section where we would change and watch each other perform. She always had good advice for us and watched over us like a mother lion.

The Bodybuilder decided I needed a stage name and called me “The Snake” because of my mesmerizing moves. It was lots of fun. My SEAL buddies loved it because I started getting a following amongst the local women. Whenever I went anywhere in town with my friends they thought they were male strippers also and were an instant attraction.

My friends also loved to hear my stories. I have been to strip clubs and watched women strip and it is nothing like what happens in a male review. Men sit around quietly mesmerized by women strippers. Women are a completely different story in a male review and get totally wild and scream with complete abandon. We had to be escorted by bouncers to the stage so that we didn’t get mauled by the women. Bouncers also had to be right there along the stage to keep women form leaping up and grabbing us. Eventually when it got to spring break the bar was filled with hundreds of women screaming as if they are going to loose their minds.

I got pretty creative on stage towards the end of my trip at the Spinnaker. It was funny how I came up with this idea because it was a team effort from my SEAL buddies. We would discuss my previous stage performances from the prior week and it was decided that i should do a performance with a wet suit on. It was a cool looking wetsuit with lots of zippers so I could easily remove it. One of my SEAL buddies lent me his speargun for the show for added effect.

I came from the ocean side door to the stage as if I had come right out of the ocean for my performance. It was dark inside and I slithered through the crowd as the ladies shouted with delight. The music was thumping out the beginning of my set.  Strobe lights and multicolored accent lights spun and twisted to the raw beat of the music. I reached the stage in my black rubber and started to move my body in time to the music. Slow undulations followed by rhythmic thrusts of my hips to the pounding beat. The club was full of hundreds of women. The energy was electric and hot.

I found to my amazement as I danced around that if I thrust the spear gun at someone they would react as if I had sent a bolt of electricity at them. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to work the crowd around the stage with my magic talisman. I would point the spear during a cresendo in the music or a strong beat and shrieks of pleasure would erupt. I had the whole area around the stage going wild.

I remember when I was going through twelve weeks of Naval bootcamp that after our third week my entire company of over one hundred young and impressionable young men saw a councilor in a classroom. He was the only nice guy we saw the whole time as most were yelling or screaming at us to perform. At least that’s what it seemed like to me. This guy was an enlisted senior chief petty officer and asked us, “how is everything going?” He was an expert at getting us comfortable and talkative very quickly and then asked, “what are the top ten things you guys miss the most?”

We began shouting out things like friends, cars, food, family etc until the sixth thing yelled out was sex! We all had a good laugh. This was a group that the average age was probably nineteen years old. I was barely eighteen at the time and most of the guys in the company were closer to my age than they were to the upper range or over. We had one guy that was in his early thirties and we called him pops. The Senior Chief stopped writing out our list on the board and turned and looked at us with a grin. “That was what I was looking for,” he said quietly. The room grew serious. What was he getting at I thought.

“I’ve been here for over three years and have had thousands of young men like yourselves call out this same answers and usually about the sixth to eighth thing most missed is sex. He paced back and forth in front of us in his khaki uniform making eye contact with everyone in the room. He had greying hair at the temples and his face and eyes were serene and relaxed as if he were a minister in a church. As you all know this is the only place out of the three Naval recruit training bases where women come for training. San Diego, California and Great Lakes, Chicago recruit training bases have no women recruits. I always see the women recruits and ask them the same question about what they miss the most. I was in rapt attentiveness as I sat at attention at my desk as I had been taught. In all my years of working here the women always say the number one thing they miss the most is sex!”

After years of reflecting on this revelation and now watching women going wild as I danced suggestively before them I came to realize that women internalize and fantasize very well. When it comes to a point where they can let these feelings flow they are comfortable expressing themselves openly. Men on the other hand are mostly externalizing themselves and are not as adept at internalizing their feelings and fantasies. In a reversal and in contrast to women they are quiet and in awe at exotic female reviews. Men rarely allow themselves to experience the world of internal fantasy that women are very comfortable with. This is very likely the major contributing factor to why romance novels are the best selling genre of books.

Another benefit that my friends quickly learned to exploit was to tell the bouncers at the door they were my friends. On ladies night a line of men several hundred long would be waiting outside the Beach Club during our male review. My SEAL friends would be the first in the door and get instantly snatched up by hot women. Everyone should have this much fun.

On occasion after the show I would walk among the crowd after the other dancers and I had a few drinks together in the VIP lounge. The women acted like they didn’t know me or recognize me around their male friends. They had switched back into their internalizing mode. I remember looking into the eyes of many of these women that had just recently been screaming at me as if in the throes of ecstasy and now they acted as if I was just another guy. I do remember one extremely attractive lady that gave me a very seductive look one night after a show and motioned me with her finger to come hither. I thought “Oh boy” but kept my own cool game face on. As I drew near she whispered in my ear, “My husband is going to be so happy later thanks to you.” I smiled and told her wistfully, “Glad to be of service.”

It was a few weeks into the experimental diving that a SEAL Team One guy named Dave had a Grand Mal seizure. I wasn’t there that morning but the guys that were said it was brutal to watch. They were really shook up. When an O2 toxicity event happens all the muscles fire at once. The body goes ridged and you can loose consciousness. Not a good thing to happen if you are on a combat mission. The only way to treat it is to get the diver to the surface and have them breath fresh air. If this happened then the enemy would probably be alerted if you were close to the target. We had all made the decision internally that that wouldn’t happen.

Several of the volunteers found out after Dave’s seizure that their commands needed them and un-volunteered themselves. This left the rest of us with the need to do more dives. For me this was no problem because I love diving. It’s like a meditation to me. Focusing on your breath, weightless like in space, just your thoughts to entertain you. I would end up doing more dives than anyone else during the experiment which was ok by me.

We began to increase the depth and time at depth during out multi hour dives. A typical combat dive can take three to four hours underwater. Several times during the dive you may have to make deeper excursion than the safe depth of fifteen to twenty feet that you normally fly at. As you cruised in closer to the target area with the usual lights on piers or quay walls you needed to increase your depth into the deeper, darker levels of the water where the full spectrum of light rays don’t penetrate. If a search boat comes close by then you will have to dive down to stay undetected. If a ship goes overhead you must dive down to prevent you body from becoming ground hamburger meat in the propellers.

Diving deeper on O2 was always a grey area with only a few minutes allowed for these potential excursions. We were pushing the envelope so that future combat divers could comfortably dive deeper knowing that the tables had been scientifically explored to the ultimate level.

We started diving in cold water during the last weeks of the tests. The temperature of the water in the dive chambers could be adjusted up or down. They were very high tech and state of the art.  It was during these dives that we would come off the dive with our lips swollen twice their size. This was due to the cold water exposure of our lips around our mouthpieces being exposed to the cold water. We increased the thickness of our wetsuit material but as we got pressed down on our excursions the added depth pressure shrank the thickness of our suits. You got really cold on these excursions and looked forward to going back up a few feet. Another thing that we had to deal with were wires we had to insert up our butts to monitor our core temperatures. The scientists were monitoring everything. If during an excursion they noticed a drop in core temp followed by a seizure they would take that into account. We all joked that they didn’t include the anal probes in our condos on the beach brief as we gritted our teeth and inserted the wires before our dives.

To simulate the energy expended on a normal dive we were positioned underwater with our shoulders in padded brackets and our feet strapped into bicycle peddles. We would peddle and turn resistant gears to simulate the work of swimming with fins. Our safety tender would sit on his platform with his legs crossed out of the water. One buddy of mine named Bill that was stationed at the Dive Unit brought his magnetic chess set and we would pass the board back and forth playing games for hours. He was in charge of the diving gear and as one of only a few dive supervisors in the group I helped checking the dive gear before dives. We got to be good friends.

I heard a loud commotion to my right on one of the cold water dives after we had pressed down on one of our deep excursions. I looked over and could see nothing but boiling bubbles. It was like the water you see when a wave is crashing and churns up the water. I could hear metallic sounds as if something was shaking a metal rod rapidly on the bottom of the tank. The underwater hydro phone came on and we were instructed to come to the surface and come off bag.

The water level of the control chamber was at a level that when you stood up from your underwater bike the water was at chest level. As my head broke the surface I could see the all black wet suits, drager dive rigs and  face masks filled with inquisitive eyes.. I switched my mouthpiece valve on surface and took my mouthpiece out of my mouth like the rest of the divers. The tenders sitting on their benches were wide eyed and staring at the horror unfolding across the chamber. I looked right and saw Dave ridged as a board from head to feet. All the muscles of his body were firing at once like a machine-gun on full auto. Four guys were trying to help control him and were having trouble. Dave’s body had been shaking his bike so hard in his seizure that he broke the metal mounts. I’m still haunted to this day by the ancient Neanderthal guttural like sounds that came out of  him. It was like unseen hands were trying to strangle him and he was resisting with every muscle fiber in his body.

The safety tenders moved him over to the center of the tank where a harness was lowered to haul him to the very top chamber reserved for emergencies. As he was hauled up by an electric winch he was still shaking and making those guttural sounds as the air was forced in and out of his lungs from his rapidly contracting chest muscles. Dave’s eyes were rolled back in his head and I was reminded of the Frankenstein movies I’d seen as a kid. I thought of the part as Dave continued upward still shaking where they hauled the monster creation up to be struck by lightening and brought to life.

We were informed that diving operations were canceled for the day. Like a group of monastery monks we exited the chamber with just the sound of water drops falling off our gear back down with a splash into the chambers water below.

Dave never did another dive during the rest of the diving experiment. It was a good thing because after two major seizures he was considered more susceptible. He was pretty loopy after that and when you asked him a question it took a little extra time for him to answer. He walked around in a daze mostly and we hoped he would pull out of it. He eventually got it together and when I was at SEAL Team Six many years later he was there with gold squadron. Bad luck followed him though and he had an accident while doing a combat mission during the Just Cause Panama invasion. I was on another side of the peninsula when I found out and just shook my head. At least he ended up getting a purple heart medal for this one.

The scientists determined that Dave was an anomaly and that the dive tables the rest of us had successfully tested were good for 99.9% of Navy divers using pure O2. Many people pay good money to breath pure Oxygen. It is rejuvenating and after a rough night it brings you right around. People pay even more money to be pressed down at depth in chambers breathing pure O2. Incurable skin deceases and life threatening infections have been treated and cured in O2 chambers. I was getting paid to do it.

With my Panama City adventure over I headed back to Coronado where I learned that I would be going into the diving department of SEAL Team Five. I would eventually become the diving department head and help start the first combat diving course.

Just a few months after that I would be hand selected to start SEAL Team Five’s first training course. It was one of those destiny shaping periods in my life and one that I fondly remember with pride. I will speak of this time and my first SEAL Platoon in the next chapter.

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Biography of a SEAL Team Six Operator Chapter Eleven

April 6th, 2014 mjaco No comments

A single ribbon of yellow light slipped over the rock strewn mountains east of Coronado, California and cast a glowing beam of light on the tallest Italian Renaissance tower of the hotel Del Coronado. A long streamer of a flag mounted on top of the tower came to life and ruffled and snapped in a light breeze.

“You F…ing new guys better be up front,” came a shout far in the rear as my running shoes tread quickly over the pavement. Fresh out of BUD/S we were expected to excel in all areas of physical training by the old timers in the team.

The early morning streets of the scenic town of Coronado had not yet awoken. There were four of us new guys and all of us were excellent runners. We were in the lead as we ran along the golf course within the edge of the quaint city. On a good day for me and a bad day for my platoon mates I would lead but today, a Friday, I was in my usual position of pushing myself as hard as I could to just keep them in sight. We hit the turn around point and headed back to the beach passing by the dozens of other UDT-12 teammates that were racing against themselves.

We breathlessly reached the truck that had our mask and fins that was parked down the beach from the Hotel Del on shore drive. It was a race and mad scramble for the lead guys to slip off their shoes, grab their swim gear and race to the shoreline. The brilliant sun now rising higher in the sky was warming the trillions of delicate sand crystals on the long stretch of beach to the shoreline. The only sound was of our black neoprene dive booties crunching and compressing the sand as we raced to the waters edge.

Run, swim runs were typical Friday events that would be followed by beer kegs on the beach. I loved my new life in the Teams!

On the last day of the week we typically had a monster mash which usually consisted of a six to eight mile run through the streets of Coronado, a one mile swim along the shore, get out and run another mile, swim for one more mile and then get out and run the last stretch to the UDT-12 compound on the beachfront. We typically got rewarmed and cleaned up in the interior open stall showers and then walked outside nude to the locker rooms. It would be a couple more years before we could no longer walk around like wild savage men in the prime of life. It gave us a feeling of complete freedom and was awesome. Jokes and laughter were typically in the air.

After we cleaned up our spaces and the team area then the Executive Officer and the Master at Arms conducted an inspection. If they were satisfied then over the 1MC or load speaker system the Quarterdeck would pass liberty call and that the drinking lamp was lit with a keg of beer on ice on the beach. This was usually around noontime and the party didn’t end but just kept moving from place to place until Sunday afternoon.

There was a house that Team guys rented and was called the Animal House after the movie of the same name. At night we would dance on the floor until it started to wobble to the point it was going to collapse. Someone would turn off the music, and then we would stop dancing until the floor stopped bobbing like a boat in rough seas. When the flooring grew calm we’d slowly crank the music up again. As it grew later in the night the police would come and tell us to settle down because we were disturbing the neighbors. We would tone it down for awhile but somehow the music and the noise would increase again and the cops showed up and we got quiet until we weren’t and so on until late at night they shut us down for good.

Somewhere down the coast on Saturday night would be a huge Toga party where all the teams guys and their girlfriends or wives would party. These parties rivaled anything I’d seen in the movies. Imagine all the perfectly toned women walking around with barely a sheet covering them. They all seemed to be trying to out do each other with how skimpy they could dress. It was like floating in heaven. Usually Imperial Beach had several dozen Team guys living in different houses and the parties would rotate around to different houses weekend to weekend.

I was usually glad Monday morning rolled around because then I could recover from the weekend. We had trained for a couple of months and it was our last week in town before we deployed for six months overseas. My barracks roommate and former classmate Rick and I had the late afternoon off so we went to the base and grabbed a paper out of a machine to check the movie times. Some of our former classmates in another team just happened to stroll by and we talked about going to a movie together. I laid out the paper on the sidewalk, which happened to be in front of the building that housed the Naval Amphibious Base Headquarters. We looked at times and all planed to meet for a movie at the theatre in Coronado.

After the movie Rick and I pulled into our barracks parking lot and as we were heading up to our room Rick heard someone in a white base pickup truck call out to him. I headed towards the barracks but paused as I heard Rick get into a heated discussion with the driver. Rick walked away and said something to the effect of whatever. When I asked what happened he said that the driver was the acting base command duty officer. Usually an actual officer or an enlisted chief petty officer this had been a senior first class petty officer filling the position. Rick told me he had accused us of stealing papers out of the machine that was in front of the command quarterdeck. “He said he saw us stealing the papers, so I told him he was full of sh_ _,” Rick said.

I watched as the base security truck sped away as if the driver was pissed off. I had a bad feeling about this. Rick had come right to BUD/S and therefore was not savvy to the ways of the regular military. I had experience as an elite diver working with the regular Navy where less than stellar service members look for the opportunity to make others look bad so that they can further their own careers. I wished that I had been involved in the conversation.

The next morning as Rick was walking to change for morning Physical Training the Commanding Officer saw him and shouted at him that he was going to burn the two of us for stealing papers. Over the next several days we struggled to prove our innocence. We were just three days away from deploying on our first adventure that every SEAL dreams of and it was about to get squashed.

Fortunately I had been doing several triathlons, which are swim, bike and run events with the top officers and enlisted in our command. We had all gotten to know each other and built a great rapport. I had even been invited to the Horny Toad invitational, which was half the equivalent of the Ironman the mother of all triathlons. I even got my picture taken before the event started and was featured in Triathlon Magazine as one of the best bods in the sport. It was but for this camaraderie that I saved Ricks and my career in the Teams.

I remember I was the last to speak at the Executive Officers screening where they would decide if Rick and I would go on to get hammered by our Commanding Officer as he had promised. I had spoken just prior “man to man” as he called it at the time to the officer in charge of our case. He just happened to be a triathlon mate who was prior enlisted and a Viet Nam veteran. We had looked each other in the eye and I told him I guessed this petty officer was tasked with watching for people stealing papers and had failed and was looking for someone to pass the blame to. We had been in front of the one way glass that was mirrored on our side for several minutes so if he had seen us steal the papers like he claimed why hadn’t he walked out and said so during that timeframe. We had two other witnesses that would collaborate our story.

After I gave my statement the officer in charge of our case stood up and said in his deep southern accent “That Dog Don’t Bark!” meaning it was a bunch of crap that was trying to be dished on us. I was asked to leave the room. I went outside and sat by the obviously nervous and sweating Rick. I didn’t know what would happen. It is times like these that you find out who your true friends are. Some of the guys in our platoon had been overheard saying they believed we were guilty and had brought disgrace to the team and we deserved to burn. Others had been with us all along and recognized what was happening and offered their support.

After several minutes of sheer agony of awaiting our fate we were called back into the XO’s office. We both stood at attention side by side as the charges were read off to us. The XO told us what the potential consequences were for our supposed actions.

“You are both facing loss of pay, loss of rank, restriction to base and extra duty,” he said while sitting behind his massive oak desk and eyeing us for any sign of guilt.

I couldn’t believe I was in this position. I’d had an exemplary career, loved the Navy, my job, had worked for nearly four years for the opportunity to deploy as a SEAL and had dreamed of being a SEAL for nearly twenty years of my nearly twenty two years on earth. It was all about to be ruined by someone’s ridiculous lie.

I had also completed triathlons with the XO. Earlier he had also looked me in the eye when I told him without the slightest flutter in my eyes that I didn’t steal the papers.

After a pause for effect the XO said,  “After review of the evidence and your testimonies I have decided to dismiss the case.”

A weight lifted from my shoulders and my heart felt like it had wings. We were dismissed and went outside and slapped each other on the backs and laughed with relief.

A few days later as Rick and I arrived at the Command Party for our platoon deployment the Commanding Officer walked past us and asked if we had any papers for sell. Lots of laughs rang out from everyone within earshot. For years afterwards it was known as “The Paper Caper.”

Love that humor when I’m not on the receiving end of it but not so much when I’m the object of it. Rick and I said nothing or showed any emotion. To do so would have shown weakness and then the taunts would have gone off the charts.

The weekend came and we boarded the ship that would be our home base for the next six months. The USS, United States Ship, Ogden LPD-5 an amphibious transport ship with 24 officers, 396 enlisted, 900 Marines and 21 SEAL/S. We had two officers, one chief, and nineteen enlisted. Only the four of us new guys had never participated in an overseas UDT cruise before. Some guys like Ivan, a Hawaiian surfer with a famous dad that was a surfing legend had several cruises under their belts.

After many days at sea for trials to make sure we were sea worthy and could work with the other ships in our amphibious group we headed to Hawaii. It was even more beautiful than I had ever imagined. Sun rises and sunsets are out of this world and I have heard it is attributable to the volcanic ash that is in the air. The Hawaiian Islands are still forming and the Big Island has molten lava flowing into the sea quite frequently. The volcanic soil is a paradise for exotic plants, palm trees, flowers and orchids of every color, lusciously delicious fruits like pineapple and passion fruit are all incredible.

We finished up in paradise and headed out to sea again for the first of two three-week stops in Subic Bay in the Philippines. Our at sea life was pretty casual with two hour conditioning exercises as a group every morning. During the afternoon we had authorized sun conditioning hours. We laid out on steel beach in nothing but our UDT shorts. I had this art down to a science with a collapsible lounge chair and towel. It was great lying out on what I imagined was our cruise ship, the sun, the breeze, the jokes and laughter. Sun hours were necessary because we were out on every landing for days at a time all day long in the sun. I had the best tan of my life on that six-month cruise.

We did have one guy that we called the pink frog because he never got out in the sun because his skin was so fair. He wore long sleeved camouflage tops and pants and a big floppy hat when we were all on the beach in nothing but UDT shorts during marine landings. Red haired, freckled and Irish stubborn. It’s amazing he survived our cruise because he seemed to mouth off to everyone. Our Hawaiian platoon mate nicknamed him Fi Fi after the cartoon with the pink poodle because he never tanned he just got pink skin.

Every time we came near a port or landing site we were off the ship on helicopters living on the beach in remote areas or staying in barracks or hotels while the ship was offshore during the landings or docked in port.

When we finally pulled into Subic Bay we offloaded most of our operational gear for training and drove it over to our forward in theatre of operations base. The Teams had our own compound with storage and buildings for all of our gear and a warehouse with an open bay area for preparing gear for training missions or real world operations. It was September 27, 1982 and the guys snuck up on my on a pier where we were staging our rubber boats and through me into the water for my birthday. I was twenty-two. One year ago had been the start of my BUD/S class Hell Week. I had come a long way in a short period of time.

At the time the teams were really small. We had one SEAL platoon of sixteen guys deployed and stationed in Subic Bay and one UDT platoon cruising with the amphibious fleet. That was it. The Teams have grown many times over from these numbers.

S

Subic Bay was definitely in the tropics with thick jungle surrounding the base. The broad blue waters of the bay leading out to the South China Sea were calm and serene. It was the first time I’d been in the tropics other than Hawaii, which was actually cool with the sea breezes gently blowing so that you never felt too hot. Subic Bay was different than anything I had experienced so far. I grew up in the south and the heat and humidity can be oppressive in the summer time. This humidity and heat was even more intense. It was great when we went out in our boats on the bay and did dives but on shore you were instantly covered in sweat. The body adapts after awhile to anything and within a few days it wasn’t so bad.

My first trip across the bridge leading off base and into the city of Olongapo was surreal. Shit River as it was called carried the raw effluent of the city of tens of thousands of people. It moved past our SEAL compound on base and spilled into the vast Subic Bay, which swallowed it up as if it never existed. As you crossed the bridge at night women on long slender Bonka boats wearing contrasting white dresses to the filth they floated in. They held large mouthed catch tubes and would yell “Peso’s, Peso’s,” to passersby on the bridge from their bobbing seats in the skinny boats. Little boys held onto the sides of the boats in case the girls didn’t catch the coins that were tossed. They would dive into the dark, filthy, stinking water and grab the coins off the bottom.

Those are the “Shit River Queens” I was informed by my savvy teammates as they escorted us FNG’s out into the loud teaming city. The smell of roasting meat was in the air as vendors waved palm fronds over coals in vending carts. “Monkey meat on a stick” my friends said pointing as we walked up the street. I had some later and it tasted like chicken. I enjoyed the food of the Philippines. The fruit was amazing especially the mango daiquiris and margaritas.

Rock and roll music poured out of bars as we walked up the street. Giant two story speakers in some of the clubs rivaled rock concerts in the US. Every night local rock groups jammed in several clubs up and down the long street. The Teams had our favorite bar we called our own named Fillmore East. Women ran the bars and restaurants throughout town. They were better at business than the men and were completely accepted in that capacity throughout their society. They were called Ma Ma san.

One of my platoon mates named Steve had a brother named Bobby who sang on stage at one of the bars. You could name any popular rock song at the time and he could belt it out like he originally wrote it and recorded it. He had a Pilipino Rock group that he sang for when he was deployed. It was awesome fun. I fell in love with ice-cold San Miguel beers. If you got out early enough in the late afternoon you cold get some that were slushy. Perfect for the tropical weather. After several weeks of partying with our SEAL Team One friends virtually every night we headed out to several more ports.

We visited Hong Kong, which has to be one of the best places in the world to shop. I had the best Peking duck of my life there.

We traveled to the land down under and visited Perth, Australia.We trained with the Aussie Special Boat Service in the outback and I saw huge herds of hundreds of Kangaroo and giant Emu and Ostrich birds that are over six foot tall running around wild. We feasted every night on fresh ground Roo Burgers and Roo Spaghetti, easily some of the best wild meat I’ve ever eaten.

Perth had some of the best music at the time with Duran Duran ‘Girls on Film’ and ‘Hungry like the Wolf’ playing in all the clubs. Huge video screens were playing the latest craze that had yet to hit the US, Music Video’s.

Next we cruised to the island of Diego Garcia in the middle of the Indian Ocean. We dove there and the visibility was well over one hundred feet. My dive buddy Jim and I were down at 120 feet diving along a rare black Coral wall. I looked up and could see some of the other guys in platoon swimming on the surface next to the boat clear as if we were in a swimming pool.

I heard Jim grunt loudly over and over again in alert to get my attention. The first thing I thought was he had seen a great white shark that was coming in to eat us. I spun around and there not ten feet from us was a giant Manta Ray cruising by checking us out. The wingspan on it was well over twenty feet tip to tip. It was one of the most beautiful and majestic sights I’ve ever seen.

Our next adventure was Somalia, which in late 1982, was friendly towards the US.  We would do a Marine Beach landing south of Mogadishu.

Over a period of two nights we were in the water for many hours along the shoreline swimming stealthily and undetected, surveying and marking the upcoming landing area for potential obstacles. The last day after the landing was completed, a couple of us decided to surf along the shoreline.

Two of my UDT-12 teammates had brought surfboards and were surfing the large waves while I was the only one in our group that decided to bodysurf.

There was one particularly perfect wave that all three of us were riding at the same time. I thought I was doing really well because I could hear my buddies yelling at me from their surfboards. With the thunder of the crashing waves I couldn’t make out what they were saying but assumed they were cheering me for bodysurfing the wave so well. I continued swimming out and caught several more waves when I noticed my buddies were no longer surfing. I was just riding another wave when I saw all of my UDT team gesturing wildly and jumping up and down. I thought that they were again cheering me and my head swelled proudly thinking my bodysurfing skills were peerless.

The waves were fantastic breaking far off the beach you would get a long ride in the cool refreshing water. The waves had a great face on them that didn’t spill over and break right away. I was flying at high speed in the churning bubble machine, bouncing along in the spray and foam.  I eventually tired and rode a wave all the way back to the beach.

When I got out of the water, my friends asked me accusingly why I had stayed after they were yelling at me to get out. I shrugged my shoulders telling them that I didn’t hear them for the crashing of the waves.

“What’s the problem,” I asked vexed at their anger.

They then proceeded to tell me they had seen a huge shark riding in the wave right next to me, they had yelled to warn me and made sure they stayed on their boards all the way into shore. When they got there, they told everyone else what they had seen, and everyone in my team jumped up to run and see.

For the next several waves they all saw the huge shark riding the waves right next to me again and again as they yelled and gestured for me to get out of the water. Steve my friend on the surfboard closest to me told me he had seen the beady eye of the shark staring at me menacingly. I guess I made a bodysurfing friend of the shark that day or my guardian angels were having a field day keeping me safe.

I got a chill in the blazing heat and looked back out to the crashing waves to see if my stalker was still there. I saw nothing and began to doubt my friends were accurate.

Later that day we got into a helicopter to return to our ship. We flew into the air and started to cruise along the shore. We were riding along when all of a sudden one of our teammates named Joe yelled for us to look down into the water. We saw hundreds of sharks in the water, some of which were well over 12 feet long.

I believe that we were saved by the fact that we were all very comfortable in the water. It was probably a good thing, however, that I didn’t see the shark next to me when I was bodysurfing. Maybe that big fella wanted to play along side me or he may have been probing me to see if I had fear or would act like prey. If I had shown fear or surprise, he and his buddies would have likely come in closer for a taste.

None of us had shown any fear during the nights of our water reconnaissance, you learn not to focus on what you fear as a SEAL. If you did you’d never be able to do anything because everything we do is on the razors edge of complete abandonment or paralyzing fear. To this day, now over seventy years in existence no US Navy UDT/SEAL has ever been attacked by a shark.

As a Navy SEAL, Navy Hard Hat Diver, and PADI scuba diving instructor I have encountered many sharks over the years. On a certain level I believe that most sharks observe us humans as comfortable in the water and not an easy meal and therefore leave us alone. However, although it’s very rare, it sometimes does happen that some of us obviously must seem like inferior prey to them, so they may take a bite to see how we taste.

Personally, I have been very fortunate that I have been viewed as comfortable in the water environment and not an easy meal for over fifty years now. I always felt confident, but I have never knowingly pushed my luck just for the thrill of it when it comes to the underwater environment. I have a healthy respect for marine animals and if I’m aware that sharks are in the vicinity, I simply don’t go into the water or leave the area if I see them.

After our Somalia adventure we cruised over to Oman and trained with the Oman UDT/SEAL equivalents for a couple days. It was along the deserted shoreline that we saw a huge freighter that was washed up close to shore and abandoned. It would be at the top of the freighters mast high above the water that I would climb up and reenlist for four more years. My platoon officer in charge swore me in from the main deck below with the rest of my platoon watching from our rubber boats circling the hulk. I would have many more reenlistments in the years to come but that was my favorite.

We cruised down the straights of Malacca to Singapore for Christmas. Most of the guys in my platoon and I rented out a luxury suite to celebrate in. What a night. We were in a British pub when one of the guys decided to order a cool shot he had heard about for everyone. It was called Gorilla Tits. I have no idea what was in it. I was have a highly intelligent conversation with a local Brit on the subject of politics. Every British person I’ve ever met loves politics and are usually very well versed in teaching us Yanks what makes the world go round. I found it fascinating conversation and had forgotten about my friends. I heard laughter as if they were drunk already. This was impossible in my mind because we had sat down for a pint of beer only half an hour earlier. My conversationalist looked over my shoulder in horror. I turned just in time to see my friend Steve who is the hardiest of alcohol consumers throw his shot back up into his shot glass.

I decided I was going to ignore these hoodlums and tried to continue the conversation. The laughter grew more riotous and I heard my name being called over and over again. Each time was louder.

“Mike, MIKE, MIKE!” All of them were shouting.

I couldn’t ignore them any longer as I had a shot glass thrust into my hands. “What is it?” I asked coolly. Everyone was watching me breathlessly in anticipation through their blurry eyes.

“It’s a Gorilla Tit,” came the slurred words.

To make them leave me alone I took the shot and downed it in one gulp. What can one stupid shot do! I thought. Everyone cheered.

I turned back around to talk to the Brit and my eyes began to water. What the hell, I thought. The next thing I remember because everything became blurry soon after we were heading back to the hotel on escalators up and over the roadways. I remember one of my friends turning them off so that the rest of us behind him had to walk up or down. Of course the other Singaporean people had to do the same thing. Somehow we made it to our hotel a Hilton if I remember correctly. Someone thought it a good idea to open what was thought was the free booze refrigerator. It wasn’t free and in fact it was ridiculously expensive, as we would find out the next day when we got the bill.

During the night I remember the hotel manger and security knocking on our door and asking where the Christmas tree outside the elevator was. “We don’t have it” came the innocent response. Of course there was a trail of Christmas decorations all the way down the hall and into our room. Our normally most mellow and quiet guy CW got pissed when they insisted on checking our closet where someone had hid the tree. He threw an ornamental bulb that crashed over the doorway. It was to say the least a memorable Christmas away from home.

Our next stop was back to the Philippines for three more weeks of nightly partying. I asked my SEAL Team One friend Ron how they partied like this every night for six months.

“We don’t! he said laughing. We look forward to you guys coming because you guys are animals when you pull in and we have a great time. But we also look forward to the day you leave after a couple of weeks so we can dry out.” We both had a good laugh.

This was our last port of call and on the way back home to San Diego we passed by the amphibious fleet replacing us with UDT-11 on board. They would be the last platoon of an era as all UDT Teams would be replaced with SEAL Teams.

I would eventually go into SEAL Team Five as I’ll talk about in the next chapter.

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Biography of a SEAL Team Six Operator Chapter Ten

March 10th, 2014 mjaco 1 comment

After graduating from BUD/S my class was assigned to Ft. Benning, Georgia for Army Airborne static line jump school.

We all looked forward to the excitement and thrill of jumping out of planes.

I drove across country with a classmate named Dave and we met a couple of other classmates in New Orleans for a day and night of partying. Bourbon street was a great relief valve for us and we went from bar to bar until the sun started coming up the next morning. I had never partied all night and we all had an incredible blast. New Orleans Jazz and food was a great treat for ourselves after six months of intense BUD/S training.

My class was assigned to a large group of Army Airborne jump school volunteers that included women. This was an elite school for the Army but it was a joke for us after the toughest training in the world. The hardest runs and group calisthenic Physical Training that we did were not nearly as tough as our first PT in first phase.

It was hilarious to us to see the Army “Legs” as the instructors called the recruits, start to fail after doing a few dozen pushup’s. We were used to doing hundreds of pushup’s during PT’s. When the instructors leading the PT hollered out that they would continue doing exercises until the whimpering legs started sounding off with the correct count most of the guys from my BUD/S class sounding off with the wrong count. We would continue saying “one” over and over again. The Legs around us pleaded with us to please stop so they would be released from their misery.

During runs we got to learn the Airborne shuffle which was barely a run for us. I still remember the songs we sang over and over. “Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door, jump right out and count to four!” It was a long way from the sultry ballad that I had taught our BUD/S class. It was a joy to me when I returned many years later as the BUD/S first phase leading chief to hear classes still singing “Minnie the Mermaid.” “She was mighty good to me, down at the bottom of the sea” was one of the verses. I was a sailor at heart.

When we were dropped for pushups for various obscure infractions the proper way to recover was to rapidly jump to your feet, slap your hands on the side of your legs and shout “Airborne!” in a loud and thunderous voice. The Navy guys in the class invariably had fun with this and shouted “Airhorn” to the great disgust of any surrounding Legs. Another punishment was to “Beat Your Boots!” We had great fun with this because all it called for was a squat followed by slapping the sides of your boots and then rising back to a standing position. We usually laughed during this “Punishment.” I remember one of my classmates that was ordered to beat his boots faster and he did it so superman fast that the Drill Sergeant actually laughed and told him “That’s enough Navy.”

Typical of an Army school they took what should have been a one week course and turned it into three. After decades of doing the Armies school the SEAL teams now have their own jump school and also teach free fall parachuting or jumping out and then pulling the rip cord to your own chute after falling for a distance of several thousand feet. I would eventually be fortunate to learn how to free fall in my second platoon which was a rarity at the time. Some SEAL’s would go for whole careers without learning free fall.

In our third week we finally got to the jumping out of planes phase after learning how to fall on the ground in what was called a proper Parachute Landing Fall or PLF. The PLF was performed by distributing the shock of the landing over one side of the body. You would land sideways and the impact rolled from your heal to your leg, hip, side and shoulder. If the landing was particularly fast your legs would pivot over your helmeted head and you did a PLF on the opposite side as well. I have actually experienced a couple of static line landings like this and they are not fun. If I had tried to land standing up as I would do in all my free fall jumps I wouldn’t have walked away but would have had two broken legs. So the PLF training was valuable.

The reason for doing static line jumps was that it required the least amount of training. If you were terrified which many of the Army Legs were then you could still survive. Terrified people rarely do anything for themselves so pulling a rip cord to deploy your parachute would be problematic.

Another reason for static line jumps is that planes can fly a mere five hundred feet or less above the ground and deploy hundreds of static line jumpers with low casualty rates. Yes, that’s right they usually calculate a percentage of broken bodies from these mass parachute deployments. Jumpers turn into each other. Parachutes come out tangled and if they are far enough above ground like they were in my class then they could safely deploy their reserve parachute. If it was a low deployment however then there was no room for the inevitable error.

Overall I felt the three weeks were a great experience. The Airborne instructors that I encountered were all professional and although some were miffed at some of our younger guys antics they for the most part regarded us as fellow professionals and gave us a little leeway.

We received a total of five static line jumps. It was incredibly thrilling jumping out of the plane for the first time. Of course the possibility of your chute malfunctioning goes through your mind but after the thrill of being weightless for a few seconds and then the abrupt stop of your deployed parachute the butterflies are gone.

At this point you reach up and pull on one or the other side of your risers or the webbing holding your parachute to your shoulder harness. By pulling on one side you collapse a portion of your parachute and it steers or falls in that direction.

After our last jump we had a pinning ceremony and received silver parachute wings. After receiving five more static line jumps you would receive your coveted gold wings.

I had time before I was required to report back to UDT-12 in San Diego so I drove the short distance to my parents home in Columbia, SC. My parents were proud. I had been part of an elite group as a hard hat diver but this was in a whole different category. My dad even confided in me that he had wanted to be Airborne during his short tour in the Army but circumstances didn’t work in his favor. That was the first time he saw me as a man and I felt a stronger bond with him from that time forward.

It would be a six month probationary period at my new team before I would be eligible for my SEAL trident.

I checked into UDT-12 and most of the team was at San Clemente Island doing requalification dives. I was told that I would be assigned along with one of my classmates named Rick to a platoon that would deploy in a few short months. This was perfect and what every new frogman wants.

It’s funny to me that over the years people think that Underwater Demolition Teams were somehow less than a SEAL team. Every team gets to pick from a graduating class. Many years later I was selected and completed Green team at SEAL Team Six which was the several month long training team before you were chosen for an assault team. I learned from one of my friends that I had been ranked the number three man in my green team. There were three assault teams at the time. RED, BLUE and GOLD. Each of the teams drew numbers from a hat. The numbers gave them the option of choosing based upon the numbers. Red team picked the number one and had the opportunity to pick anyone in the green team. Instead of picking the number one or number two ranked people in my class as luck would have it they decided to choose me.

The reason I bring up this process is that everyone went through the same training and could do any job whether it was SEAL Delivery Vehicle, UDT or SEAL Teams. I have even heard guys currently that are SEAL’s refer to guys that were UDT as “Just UDT!” Personally I’m quite proud of my heritage of having been in UDT-12. After all SEAL’s get their foundation and heritage from UDT during WWII.

Even after UDT went away after my first cruise and all teams were called SEAL teams one team among the SEAL teams still had to provide aUDT type hydrographic team to ride ships and do beach reconnaissance for Marine landings. It would be like me calling the guys in the SEAL teams that weren’t SEAL Team Six as “just SEAL teams.” As a professional it doesn’t and didn’t cross my mind.

When our Team returned from the Island on friday afternoon Rick and I were in formation with our new platoon. It was announced that the team had two new members and we were told to make ourselves known. Rick and I raised our hands and then all hell broke loose.

The entire command turned on us and started ripping off our clothes and dragging us to the already filled and waiting for us cold water dip tank normally used for checking for leaks in our rebreather diving gear. I remember Rick trying to cry out as someone had their fingers in his mouth pulling his lips apart. Rick had permanent scars at the corners of his lips from that day forward. I got off easy with a few bruises.

Welcome to the Teams! We were hazed, which at the time was a long tradition. Eventually hazing would be outlawed but not before some truly amazing hazings happened over the years.

Rick and I would be on a fast and heavy training schedule with our twenty-one man platoon to get all of our pre-deployment requirements met. Diving, Parachute jumping on land and into the water, water cast and recovery from fast boats and Helo’s, weapons shooting and demolition training.

A slot came up one day for Survival Escape and Evasion training. Our platoon Officer In Charge asked for volunteers because we had to have a certain percentage of guys trained. It was not a popular school so everyone looked at me. I was a FNG of F…ing New Guy. I didn’t get it at first. The room was quiet with all eyes on me. “I’ll go” I said when it finally dawned on me that they were waiting for me to “volunteer.”

I would actually always volunteer for every school or less than desirable course. I was the odd ball that wanted to experience everything. SERE training during this time frame was hard core. We were in the cold war still and they didn’t mess around.

After one week of classroom training my class of Navy Aircraft Pilots and aircrew headed for the deserts and mountains off the coast of California. I learned how to survive in the intense heat of the desert by digging down into the ground and covering my hole with two layers of torn parachute which trapped a layer of heat and made the ground where I rested twenty degrees cooler. It was over one hundred so it felt like I was in an air conditioned environment. I also learned how to make a solar still to make water. How to gather edible plant food and make traps for animals with parachute cord. we survived without real food for several days before being transported to the mountains. We would do a final evasion course by moving through an area that was heavily patrolled by role players acting as Russian troops.

“If you are fortunate to make it to the safe house you will get a peanut butter sandwich” we were told. I made up my mind I was going to make it!

I crawled on hands and knees till I bled. I could hear shouts all around me as fellow evaders were captured. I heard a truck coming up the road and crawled under some heavy brush and laid as still and imobile as possible. I heard footsteps and shouting in English with a Russian accent. “Get those scum under that bush!” I lay still as footsteps came by my head. I held my breath. The boots stopped by my head and then rushed to another bush where they drug out someone hiding. They threw their new prisoner in the back of a truck and drove away. I sighed with relief. I continued to crawl, look, wait and crawl again until I reached the safe house. I knocked the passcode and the door opened. I was escorted inside and told to wait quietly.

I was the first in the house. What seemed like a long time went by and I wondered when I would get my coveted PB&J. It was all I could think about. My mouth watered and I thought about how good it was going to taste. It would probably be very filling I thought after not having any sold food for several days. Another person came and then several more until there were four of us. We talked in whispers about the PB&J’s that we had earned and how delicious they would be.

We heard a truck pull up and then an argument broke out with our safe house owner. Shots rang out and we heard a thump as if a body had hit the ground. Then the door burst open to our wide eyed surprise as troops dressed in Russian uniforms stormed in and began hauling us ruffly outside where our hands were tied behind our backs. We were led to the back of a truck and had black hoods pulled over our heads and forced to sit on the cold metal floor of a flatbed truck. The vehicle pulled out and began rapidly traveling down the dirt road. I thought to myself that they were taking us to where the PB&J’s were.

After several minutes and several turns we suddenly heard the brakes squeal and we came to a rapid stop throwing up a cloud of dust. Out hoods were ripped off our heads and we were led into what seemed like something out of Dante’s Inferno. I could hear blood curdling screams from a man like I had never heard before. These were not Hollywood screams but the real thing. In the distance I could see what I had heard described as a water board. A prisoner was laying on the slanted board with his head down. Several guards were holding him down as another poured water over his mouth and nose. The mans body jerked convulsively as he struggled in vain for air. When the torturer stopped pouring then the screams began again.

“What is your name and number!” a prison guard said to me in a course Russian tone. I had been taught to resist questioning until I was at the point where my life or well being was seriously threatened. I said nothing. I had been through BUD/S training so I knew how to deal with pain. What could this guy do to a tough guy like me? My hands were untied and I was told to grab the sides of my pants and hold tightly. I did as I was told not knowing what was coming.

I was quickly grabbed by the guard and body slammed onto the ground. The air was shocked out of me in one huge gasp. Pain shuddered through my body. What the heck just happened?

I could hear the sound of other bodies being slammed on the ground and whimperers and mewing noises from several other men around me. There was real fear in the air. The screams from a new water board victim pierced through the body slams and gasps. A metal wall was being used to slam a prisoners body against it and the metallic sound of a body hammering into it over and over again reverberated out like the concentric rings caused by a pebble dropped in still water. The metallic sounds mixed with the other sounds in a symphony of horror.

I was snatched to my feet still clutching my pants. “What is your name and number American pig!!!” I still had a little fight in me I thought as I ignored the demand. I could feel myself going weightless as my booted feet seemed to sail through the air. It’s like jumping out of a plane I thought. The dirt puffed up around my body in a cloud as my body slammed with even greater force into the waiting earth. “Jaco, Michael 24……” I gasped.

I was hauled to my feet again and had my hands retied and the hood put on my head. I was led by a hand grasping my tricep to another truck where I was hauled up and laid on the cold metal with several other bodies. The truck started up and moved out for several more twisting turns as the bodies in the back with me bumped and rolled into each other for several minutes. “I wonder if we are now going to where those PB&J’s are I thought.

Another quick dust cloud provoking stop and we were hauled out hoods taken off and led into a building. Several other prisoners were seating in rows. We were told tersely to sit. Were giving a camp brief. We were told that we were prisoners of war. We here baby killers and on and on. It was propaganda and part of a process to break us down mentally, psychologically and physically. Yadda yadda yadda I thought and tuned it out. I looked around the room and wondered when they would bring me my PB&J. Surely they had radioed ahead and knew that I had made it to the safe house and had rightfully earned my reward. I was even the first one their by a long shot so maybe I would get extra.

A speech Jane Fonda had given condeming American servicemen when she visited Viet Nam in support of the North Vietnamese government was being played on loud speakers over and over again. It was annoying and to this day I will not see a Jane Fonda film. I was led along a long line of small wooden boxes until an empty one was found. In the bottom of the box was a small block of wood that I had to sit on. AI could just barely fit inside. A black hood was put over my head and a metal door on hinges was closed down over the entrance leaving me in darkness. “I’m not going to get my PB&J I thought with a sinking feeling.

We were questioned one at a time through the day and into the night. The temperature dropped precipitously. The lack of food, stress and the drastic temperature change from the desert to the mountains left me shivering. I had low body fat to begin with after BUD/S training and now after being starved for almost a week I was a wreck.

We were tortured in many different ways. It was not life threatening but it seemed like it. Many guys completely broke down and cried. Wow! I thought. Some of these guys didn’t handle stress well. I learned to suffer in silence. We were brought out as a group. There was nearly one hundred of us. There was one other SEAL in the group named Steve who had been in my BUD/S class. He was at another team. We were the only non air wing guys in the group. I had a made up story that I was a cook on an aircraft carrier that had gotten blown off the side by prop blast. I had been told that if they learned I was a special forces guy they would cut my head off right away so I had stuck to my story throughout all the questioning.

A big pot of hot soup was being Ladled out to us one by one. Warm coats were also being handed out. I was eagerly waiting my turn for warmth and finally some food when I was singled out by the prison guards. I was led to the water board.

All day and into the night I had listened to the screams of people being water boarded. At one time during the day they had taken our group leader who was a commander of his squadron and water boarded him while we were all made to watch in terror from wooden bleachers. It was one of the scariest things I had ever seen in my life. This once proud and honorable man was reduced to a screaming maniac right in front of eyes in seconds.

Now it was my turn.

As the board was prepared for me and through brought over a bucket of water with a ladle in it I glanced back at everyone with their warm coats on and their bowls of hot soup. They were all frozen with the bowls in both their hands in front of their faces not eating but as if in shock. I would be eating I thought.

I laid down on the inclined wood with my feet strapped in the top portion. My head was situated at the bottom of the wooden plank and my arms were at my sides. two big men situated themselves on either side of me ready to hold me down when I struggled. Another man was squatting at my head and dipped the ladle in the bucket until it was full. I could hear the splash and the dripping sounds of water. All was eerily quite. I only had on my t-shirt and pants and should have been cold by strangely I was not. The interrogator brought the dripping ladle up by my head.

“Who is in charge of the escape committee!” came the Russians demand. The thought quickly passed through my mind that I wish I knew because he should have given me one of the slips of paper that authorized an escape attempt. I’d had several opportunities that day and was pissed because we were told if you escaped you got a PB&J. Dammit I’d thought all day who was the knucklehead that didn’t give one of us SEAL’s the opportunity to escape. If anyone could have we would have done it. You escaped it was a good deal for everyone in camp for morale. You had to come back into the camp to continue with the training but you got rewarded with food!

“I don’t know.”

A piece of cloth was pressed violently down over my mouth and nose by another guard and then the water started pouring. It soaked the cloth. I held my breath. I could hold my breath for a long time. The water stopped. I exhaled forcefully and then instantly sucked back in. Air and water entered my mouth. I held onto the air. Water started pouring again after the guard had refilled his the ladle. I waited. The water stopped. I exhaled and quickly sucked in again. the water gurgled around in my mouth but I still was able to suck air in through the path I had created with my exhale.

As a hard hat diver and while diving as a SEAL I had learned how to breath with leaky dive gear. I learned to breath with a little water in my mouth. It was no big deal. I could keep this game up all night.

The prison guard whispered in my ear that I better start screaming when they removed the cloth or they would make it very difficult for me. I had learned to give them what they wanted as long as it didn’t threaten me. What’s a little screaming I thought. I gave it my best scream and would have made Hollywood actors guild proud of my performance. After a couple more rounds of water, exhale, breath around the water I was let up. I was given a jacket for warmth. Nice! I thought.

Everyone was staring at me in disbelief even the guards looked at me in awe. What? I thought. The soup was gone! What the crap!

Eventually the sun came up and the prison camp was liberated by some of my SEAL buddies. I guess this happened once in a blue moon and was really motivational for everyone. I thought it was cool being rescued by my buddies but the truth of the matter is that in real life no UDT member or SEAL has ever been captured.

We were bussed back to San Diego and were given a debrief on our adventures of the last week. At one point during the debriefing the head instructor stopped and said in earnestness who had beat the water board? The room was silent. He went on to say that once every ten years or so one guy beats the water board. They had only had a couple since they had started the course.

“Who was the guy that beat it?” he repeated. I sat silently in my seat wondering who it might be because I’d like to meet them. Then he said, “it was one of you SEAL’s.” I looked at my buddy Steve and he looked at me with a blank look.

The instructor pointed at me. “It was you,” he said. “Congratulations.” he went on with the debrief. I sat there thinking I had not done anything that I thought was all that important. I had relied on my training that all SEAL’s get. Although many SEAL’s went through the training I have only known one other guy that beat the water board. It was a guy named Dave Billings who was the honor man of my BUD/S class. Coincidentally he was also a deep sea diver having learned his skill as a commercial diver working on oil rig platforms. Regrettably Dave who was a gentle giant of a man died while diving recreationally by himself. It was a way that he relaxed and while diving off the coast of La Jolla, California one sunny day he never came back from his dive. Several SEAL’s from his team (SEAL Team Three) dove for two days until they found him and brought him ashore. A good man and missed still. If anybody deserves credit it should be Big Dave.

I went right out after we ended our debrief and met up with a couple of my former classmates on my way to my favorite buffet. I had jumped on the scale before we left and I was down 20 pounds in one week. It was like Hell Week all over again. The buffet had an all you eat salad bar, soups and muffins. I was in heaven. My friends were in awe of the SERE training stories. Over the next several years pilots and flight crew guys that were in that class would stop me and introduce me like I was a celibrity to their friends, girlfriends or wives and tell them that I was the guy that beat the water board. I was always uncomfortable in these encounters because I still felt I was not so special just lucky.

Many years ago they stopped using the water board to train SERE students because they felt it was too extreme. Glad I got the opportunity to get toughened up on it. To this day I think SERE training was one of the best courses I’ve ever participated in. I wouldn’t volunteer to do it again however.

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